


Striking Adventures

by Jules_In_Neverland



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Angst, Cheesy, Corobin, Crime, Detectives, Domestic Fluff, Drama, F/M, Fluff, Investigation, Multi, Murder, Romance, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-07 06:29:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 61
Words: 147,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13428798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jules_In_Neverland/pseuds/Jules_In_Neverland
Summary: Begins two months after Career of Evil. When Strike's past comes after him and he's accused of murder, Robin will be forced to step up for him, even though he had pushed her away. This will develop into an accidental pregnancy, justice coming for Leda Strike, and a bunch of stories about love, family, friendship and, most importantly, crime-solving!





	1. The beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my first Strike fanfiction, hope you like it! At the moment there are 60+ chapters written, there probably be many more ;) feel free to make suggestions!

Two months. That’s how long Strike had been without seeing or hearing or Robin. He was almost surprised to see his copious dark beard and sad eyes looking at him between the raindrops that slid down the mirror of his tiny, barely decorated apartment. When he realised it was late, that Robin had officially married Matthew Cunliffe, he had exchanged a look with Robin and saw how Robin was suddenly so happy, her eyes cheerful and bright, a sincere smile creeping its way into her face like it hadn’t done all day, Strike had finally and very suddenly realised of two things: one, he loved Robin and was pretty certain now that she, if not love him the same way, at least felt something pretty close to that towards himself. Two, Robin was now out of reach.

            In the split of a second he had understood that if he stood there, Robin would have issues. That Matthew, eternally jealous, would make a scene and this time it would be with all the motive, and that he would ruin what was supposed to be Robin’s happiest day of her life.

            “She loves him. Not you. It’s just a crush for you.” Strike whispered to himself sadly for what felt like the hundredth time. He searched his phone for the last text he had sent Robin, right as he got back in Shanker’s car and went to the hospital to get fixed up. The last text before he blocked her number and never spoke to her again for the past two months.

            ‘ _Robin. Congratulations on your wedding. You looked incredible, as always, and I truly hope this makes you happy. Donald Laing has been arrested, but you won’t be needed at the trial, I’ll take care of everything, since you aren’t even employed at the moment. But congratulations for that too, if it wasn’t for you, he would still be walking free._

_I’m sorry for my deplorable behaviour towards you, you deserve better. I want you to know, Robin, that the reason I never looked for a partner was because I was never able to trust someone to do the job as well or better than myself, I didn’t want some useless stranger to pop in and throw my business down the toilet. I never expected to find someone as hard working, observant, brilliant and as qualified for the job as you are. And I hope you know that I see you and I appreciate everything that you’ve done. Which is why I know you deserve better and you can I definitely cannot keep working together._

_I’m sorry I fired you in the first place - even if you messed things up really badly, I know I went too far. I know we should’ve found some way for you to redeem yourself without having to kick you out. But I’m even sorrier that I’m not going to let you come back. Ever. Listen, this doesn’t make me happy. Believe me when I tell you there’s nothing that I want more than change everything that’s happened and just have you be my partner - our business will never be the same without you. Hell... my life will never be the same without you. You made things... easy. Warm. Nice. Welcoming. Which is way I hate to have to break all relationship with you. From now on, we part ways... and I, as much as it hurts me, can’t be your friend anymore. I think deep down you understand why. I think you’ve always known, just like me. And that when you finally accept the truth just like I have... you’ll understand I do this because I care about you. It’s for your own good._

_This being the last thing I’ll tell you, there’s something else that’s really important that you know._

_I want you to be happy. You’ve chosen to spend your entire life with Matthew and I truly hope you chose as wisely as you are, and that he makes you as happy and loved as you deserve to be. I also know how much this job meant to you, how big of a loss for this profession would it be to lose you, and how much you’d hate to have to look like a failure to anyone’s eyes. Because you’re many things, but not a failure. This job needs you. You are amazing at it._

_I guess Wardle must’ve seen in you the same as I, and since I fired you, he’s been after me to hire you as a consultant for the police and I’ve encouraged him to hire you right away. You’ll be assisting them to solve crimes and make a difference for good and you’ll be way better paid than I could’ve ever afforded, just like you deserve. I hope you enjoy your new job as much as you enjoyed this one._

_Best of luck. Thank you for everything._

_Cormoran._ ’

            Strike had spoken about it right after escaping Robin’s wedding. He called Wardle, insisted that he had to find Robin a good job, that he owed him, and told him exactly where Robin would be the most useful for them. It took a lot of insisting, but Wardle liked Robin, so it would be a matter of time. With his ‘maybe, we’ll see’, Strike had texted such long text to the redheaded, and then, blocked her number and sent a recommendation letter the next day. Through his own investigation, he had come to learn that Robin had accepted the job and had been succeeding at it for the past month and a half, since she came back from her honeymoon.

            Robin had come to the office but Strike had already changed the lock and ignored her threats to tumble the door down until Robin actually believed he was never at the office, which wasn’t weird since they both had always worked outside in surveillance a lot. She had called him a lot, texted him, sent letters. Until the last couple days, when her attempts to contact him had finally stopped. Strike wondered if she had finally understood why this was necessary. How, if she kept working with him, he may give her one of his famous drunk confessions in the worst possible day one day and tell him how Matthew wasn’t good enough for her, how no one really was, but Matthew the least. He didn’t want to put her in that position. He didn’t want for her to choose. And he didn’t think he would be able to content himself again if she ever came back crying because of Matthew’s stupidity.

            Strike sighed walking downstairs to the office. His new temp was a twenty four year old man called Eric Davenport, organised, cordial and hard working, which was all Strike asked. He knew he wouldn’t be able to find someone like Robin and yet he had tried hard to teach Eric to do everything the way Robin did.

            “Any news?” Strike grumbled as he served himself a mug of coffee. Eric’s blonde curly hair was impatiently brushed off his forehead, revealing two eyes very separated and light blue. Eric, that Strike figured was objectively attractive already to most woman, made a point of always brushing his curls nicely and dressing very properly, with suit and tie, making it noticeable that he came from a good family with good manners.

            “No, Mr. Strike” Eric said cordially “Ms. Cotton called again, but I told her we still have no news of her husband, Mr. Cotton.” Strike looked at him with curiosity, missing the way Robin would name their clients with something related to their looks or stories so it was easier to remember. Eric was too polite and well mannered for that, making Strike sometimes wonder what was he doing there “Mr. Cotton, sir... the man who is suspected of cheating on Ms. Cotton with the woman from the patisserie down Charing Cross.” Strike nodded.

            “Alright. I was just going to check on that, yes.” Strike nodded again, taking a long gulp of coffee before leaving the room. He moved wobbly down the thin stairway to Denmark Street, and then took the 24 in Tottenham Court Road to Charing Cross Road.

**. . .**

            “At least now you earn a respectable payment.” Matthew sighed moving around the kitchen of the new modest house that Robin and he had rented in Kensington.

            “Yeah, but the cops just won’t give me the freedom of work that I had with Strike...” Robin complained over her mountain of paperwork “they think I’m stupid!”

            “Maybe you have to let the professionals do their job...”

            “Professionals? And what am I, Matthew?” Robin was scandalised. Matthew sighed.

            “This is the job you wanted. The perfect job. You get to play detective while getting paid well enough for us to afford...”

            “This isn’t a game!” Robin was angry “And this isn’t the job I wanted!” as happy and grateful Robin was for her job and, as much as she knew most people would kill to be in her place, she missed the tiny office in Denmark Street, she missed following stupid cheaters around London, and she missed... well, him. She knew she was being stupid, but she couldn’t help it. A few more pounds in her pocket only made the pressure in her chest heavier.

            “You’re never happy, Jesus Christ, most people would kill for...!” but Robin was no longer listening to him. She had gotten a missing call from her colleague at the police department so she was already on her way to her Land Rover, that in just a few minutes, had her in the police station. She honestly didn’t care about whatever Matthew thought to be entitled to say.

            “Robin Cunliffe, consultant detective.” She introduced herself like usual. She was let in a building that sounded of telephones and the steady whispering of police talking in the offices, and soon found the policewoman she worked alongside with, Detective Cathy Rain “What’s going on?” Detective Rain turned around with her blonde hair falling in waves behind her shoulder and her dark eyes looking kindly at Robin as she pulled away from the computer on her desk.

            “Well Cunliffe, nice to see you today. We have a Jared Heifsner that has committing fraud for quite a few months, we’ve been after him for the longest time... and we finally found him.”

            “That sounds great, why am I here then?” Robin asked.

            “We’ve got a problem with Mr. Heifsner” Rain got up and indicated for Robin to follow her outside to the corridor, where there was less people walking around than in the big room full of desks “he’s been dead for six months, according to the doctors.” Robin raised her eyebrows, surprised.

            “So, someone killed him and has been using his identity to commit fraud?” Robin asked “how did you even found his body then?”

            “A neighbour complained for smells... when police got in, they found the dead body.” Rain explained “It seems like he died of drug overdose, but his family says he’s never been known for taking drugs although of course they could be lying. Thing is, if someone is passing as him, then it’s more than likely that Heifsner was murdered. Coincidentally, Heifsner’s record of fraud started around the time of his death.”

            “Someone murders him just to steal his identity and commit fraud with it?” Robin frowned “It seems too much work for someone who only wanted to get some money through fraud.”

            “It was also a very clean crime. We haven’t found a single lead towards is murder. We’re looking for someone educated, who has knowledge about drugs and how to perform a crime without leaving tracks, someone who knows what they’re doing and who has such a big interest in money that he doesn’t care about what he has to do to get there. Someone clean and cold, organised, possibly a doctor.” Robin sighed, shifting her weight from one leg to another.


	2. Randolph Whittaker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strike and Robin advance in their respective investigations, and we get to know a bit more about the Whittaker's family.

** Chapter 2: **

            “What?” Strike had to ask again, looking straight into the indulgent blue eyes of the woman sitting in front of him in the other side of his desk “I’ve never done that before. Isn’t that a job for the police?”

            “I don’t think they’ll take me seriously...” the woman claimed nervously “they’ll say that my teenage boy did it, but I know he’d never... I know how it looks like! That I’m trying to get some money and pretend we didn’t get in such nasty activities. But I’m telling you, none of us did it!”

            Edna Arson had sixty years, a teenage son and a daughter in her early twenties. Her husband left her for a woman much younger and she, in consequence, had had to get a couple extra jobs to pay her daughter’s university expenses and also her son’s education. She was rarely home, which left her son with nothing to do but spend long hours in front of the computer, yet Edna insisted that he would never spend two hundred pounds of his mother in porn and gambling websites.

            “Ms. Arson...” Strike itch his beard nervously. His knowledge of computers and hacking of bank accounts was close to zero, but he was also very desperate to get some new clients going in. He needed the money and he needn’t the propaganda that old Strike couldn’t even find enough proof that a teenager had hacked his mother’s bank account for porn. Plus it was a nice change, not following husbands who may’ve cheated for once... this one had already come out with the truth.

            “Mr. Strike, I could keep losing so much money unless you find out who’s doing this!”

            “Haven’t you thought of changing passwords?”

            “I did, but the guy’s a genius! Every time, he just gets the new password.”

            “Alright...” Strike sighed “I’ll find who’s doing this okay? But I’ll have to talk with your boy...”

            “Talk with Sean if you want, but I’m sure he didn’t do it.” Ms. Arson got up and raised a hand towards Strike, her eyes teary in thankfulness “Thank you so much, Mr. Strike.”

            “Yeah, well...” Strike squeezed her hand briefly before leading her to the door, where he stopped and turned around, looking at Eric, who worked intensely on his computer, doing all the computer work Robin had done before she became more than a secretary “Eric.”

            “Yes Mr. Strike, sir?” Eric smiled looking at him stopping his incessant typing and looking fully available for his boss. Even though Strike wasn’t particularly fond of the way in which Eric seemed to be ‘licking his feet’, he also appreciated being approached which such respect, for a change.

            “Could you do some investigation about how to hacker a bank account?” Strike asked “I’m not sure where this is going, but we need the case.”

            “On it, Mr. Strike.” Eric smiled again and went back to work.

            Eric Davenport considered himself smart and hardworking. He had gotten used to modals and nice suits that his family sent him back in Cambridge, and he liked to stick to the famous people like Strike, who had been known for his impressive results to arrest nothing less than serial killers, so he was more than happy to work for him. He had, however, realised that Mr. Strike wasn’t quite the friendly man soon into his time there, so he was determined to make Strike like him for payment raises and so he could become as big of a partner as he’d known his anterior secretary to become, and get some of the fame that came with such success. That’s why he had no problem to, at lunch time, check on his boss and assure he was eating.

            He found Strike sitting on his office staring through the window, probably about to resolve one of their cases, as he seemed so focused in the air, like he was about to grasp something, an idea that was flying around waiting to be caught.

            “Mr. Strike, sir” Eric whispered knocking in the door while he sneaked his head inside a little “Mr. Strike.” He called again, finally getting Strike’s attention “I was about to head down to get us some lunch. Would you like me to get something from that place you like so much? And some beers?” Strike looked at him as if he had hit him in the head. After a few seconds he finally reacted and clumsily took his wallet from the jacket.

            “Sure thanks, let me give you some...”

            “Not at all sir” Eric smiled politely raising a hand to stop him “it’s on me. You already pay me by hiring me, sir. It’s an honour to work here, is the least I can do.” Strike looked at him no less astonished, but finally nodded awkwardly.

            “Alright Eric, thanks.”

            Eric took his coat and trotted down the stairs, held the door open for the painter that worked below their floor in another office, and then marched for the food. He was equally generous to the old lady that almost fell into a puddle left by the morning’s rain, helping her avoid the puddle and get back into a safe walk, and finally, he was back in the office just a few minutes later, letting the cold air of September sneak into the office.

            In the meantime, Robin’s lunch was being mostly ignored as Robin sat in the office, her fork hanging loosely from her fingers while a folder with her latest case rested in front of her, on the desk. She was fixated on the pictures about the crime scene of Heifsner. There was a cigarette on the floor of a brand she knew Strike liked, half smoked, that reminded her of her ex partner with a punch in the chest. Ever since Heifsner’s death was made public, the fraud had stopped, as if his murder had lost interest in Heifsner altogether. But he was out there, somewhere, and Robin could almost smell it.

            “Cunliffe?” Rain came with a coffee, that she offered to Robin “you studied psychology, right?” Robin nodded getting a sip of her coffee “I want you to accompany me in visiting one of Heifsner’s closest friends. We want to figure if his friend may have known of anyone going around Heifsner’s house, they were neighbours, and maybe he could also tell us if Heifsner had any known enemies.”

            “Sure” Robin stood up, forgetting her lunch behind “Who’s the lucky man?” she asked with a sarcastic little smile. Rain chuckled at the awful attempt of comedy.

            “Sir Randolph Whittaker.” She answered. Robin went pale, her heart skipping a beat.

            “Everything alright, Robin?” Rain asked concerned, using Robin’s name for a change as she put a hand on her shoulder “do you need to sit down?”

            “No...” Robin shook her head, recovering quickly “is just, isn’t he the grandfather of Jeff Whittaker? You know, known criminal Jeff Whittaker.”

            “Indeed.” Rain nodded and sighed “Weird isn’t it? Sir Randolph Whittaker may be our best lead right now. He lives right in front of Mr. Heifsner, they go golfing on Sundays. It’s weird that Mr. Whittaker never went to the police about his friend’s disappearance.”

            When the two women made it to Randolph Whittaker’s, luxurious house, Robin stood surprised that such a wealthy man couldn’t provide enough psychologists or any other kind of specialists for his grandson to be half normal. Then, with a punch in the gut, she remembered that Leda Strike’s youngest child should be living there. Cormoran’s young step brother, Switch Lavey Bloom Whittaker, had been given to Jeff’s grandparents after Leda’s death, when Cormoran was just in university, and Cormoran had never seen him again.

            “Good morning, Mr. Whittaker” Rain saluted politely “I’m Detective Rain, this one is police consultant’s Ms. Cunliffe. We wanted to ask you a few questions about the death of your friend, Mr. Heifsner.” Mr. Whittaker, tall, elegant and well mannered, attractive and respectable, looked serious at them, with sadness in his eyes, before nodding and letting them inside.

            “So when was the last time you saw Mr. Heifsner?” Robin took the liberty to ask once they were sitting at his comfortable living room. There were big statutes around, beautiful framed paintings, and the distinct picture of a young teenager on a shelf right next to where Mr. Whittaker sat. Robin saw he did not look like Jeff, although they did have the same separation in his eyes, but the boy in the picture had Leda’s distinct dark, curly hair, looking way more graceful than it did on Cormoran, where it just looked like pubic hair. The boy in the picture had his father’s hazel eyes and his mother’s smile and kind appeal, he dressed nicely and stood near his great grandfather in the picture with pride and happiness bright in his eyes. Mr. Whittaker had aged well, and despite being very old and now a widow, he still stood on his own and looked respectable and neat.

            “Well, we meet six months ago to go golfing with my great grandson, Bloom, to celebrate Bloom had won a prize for his artistic abilities illustrating a children’s book.” Mr. Whittaker pointed to the picture on the shelf “Haven’t seen Mr. Heifsner since.”

            “Was it normal for him to disappear like that, for six months?” Rain asked.

            “He sometimes went in trips, but never without a proper goodbye dinner here first.” Mr. Whittaker explained.

            “So why didn’t you go to the police when he went missing?” Rain asked.

            “Thing is, he didn’t quite go missing. I received handwritten letters from him twice a week, every week until he was found dead.” Mr. Whittaker explained “Celia” he called to his maid, a young lady who appeared right when she was called “would you please bring from my office the letters Mr. Heifsner has been sending?”

            “Just a minute, Mr. Whittaker” Celia smiled and went to do her chores. In the meantime, Robin kept observing the picture of Bloom Whittaker.

            “Is your grandson close to Mr. Heifsner?” Robin asked.

            “Well, Mr. Heifsner is almost like an Uncle to him, you see. Always remembered Bloom’s birthday.” Mr. Whittaker said.

            “Are you and Bloom close?” Rain asked, and Mr. Whittaker nodded. Robin realised that there were many pictures of Bloom around the house, some of him performing onstage, others of him painting on a table, etc.

            “Sure. Although my daughter and grandson, Bloom’s father and grandmother, have been a complete disappointment... Bloom was always a good boy. He had the best grades, his grandma and myself have always been very proud of him, even more when Bloom made it to Cambridge. We call him daily and email regularly too. Bloom is very loved in this house, always was, since we got him here when he was two. We’re more like parents and son.”

            “Is it possible that Bloom might’ve seen Mr. Heifsner while you didn’t?” Rain asked.

            “No.” Mr. Whittaker shook his head “Mr. Heifsner was travelling this time, as his letter will explain in a moment... my boy Bloom works very hard quite far from here, in north Scotland. He sends me pictures every now and then. He makes software for big companies, he doesn’t have much time to come down here and when he does, we always see each other way more than he’d see Mr. Heifsner. I last saw Bloom three months ago, he works too hard to come often.” Robin and Rain nodded.

            “Here, sir” the letters were placed on Mr. Whittaker’s hands and he gave them to Detective Rain right away. She shared them with Robin.

            “It’s his handwriting for sure” Mr. Whittaker said.

            The women quickly went through all the letters. Mr. Heifsner had, apparently, been travelling around Russia, America and Australia for the past six months, visiting his family in Australia and also doing some pleasure trips to Russia and America.

            “Mr. Heifsner was a biologist” Mr. Whittaker explained “he was writing a book and used those trips to investigate. I guess he never went there, didn’t he?”

            “Mr. Whittaker” Rain sighed “Mr. Heifsner’s family in Australia didn’t know a thing of him when we called them. Said he hadn’t contacted or answered their calls since about the time of his death. He hasn’t been seen anywhere outside his house, there aren’t records of him planning any trips, getting into any plane. His house was organised, no suitcases, nothing that could indicate he was planning on going somewhere. His service said he fired them with an email after putting good money in their bank accounts as a compensation and they never heard of him again.”

            “Mr. Whittaker” Robin said “you and Mr. Heifsner were such close friends, I imagine maybe you had an spare key of his house?”

            “No.” Mr. Whittaker said “We didn’t do that. Our service is always home to open the door when we need to. I had no idea he had fired his service either, but what you’re saying does explain how I haven’t seen anyone take care of the house.”

            “This whole thing seems very staged” Detective Rain said “which lead us to believe Mr. Heifsner was murdered. Someone bothered a lot to plan and make these letters imitating his handwriting, someone who knew of his job and his Australian family and origins, and someone who could have easy access to Mr. Heifsner’s accounts to pay and fire his service. Do you know anyone capable of that, Mr. Whittaker?”

            “No, I’m sorry” Mr. Whittaker brushed his eyes, trying to hide the fact that they were teary “Jared was a very good man. Everyone liked him. I don’t know anyone who would’ve done this to him but if something comes up to my mind, I’ll call you.”

            “Thank you, sir” Detective Rain stood up, and Robin followed “we’ll take these letters so our specialists can analyse the handwriting. We’re sorry for your loss.”

            “Maybe we should go talk to the great grandson?” Robin suggested as they left the house “or maybe Jeff Whittaker, maybe he was jealous of the attention everyone got from his grandfather except himself. Maybe he wanted the money.”

            “I agree on talking with Jeff, he has a record. As for Bloom, we should let him be. He’s young and successful, has no motive, lives too far and got along with Heifsner.”

            As they sat back on the car, Robin sighed. She knew she had to say it.

            “Bloom has an older step brother.” Robin said.

            “Yeah, didn’t you work for him? Strike” Detective Rain said without giving it much importance “I thought of it, but Strike hasn’t seen Bloom since Leda died, right?”

            “Yes” Robin nodded “I was just thinking that if someone truly knows Jeff, better than Sir Whittaker or Bloom, is Cormoran Strike. Maybe we should go talk with him? See if he thinks Jeff could’ve done this? Because being realistic, Jeff is not about to confess and dislikes police, won’t help us.”

            Detective Rain nodded. “Good idea Cunliffe. Let’s go talk with Mr. Strike.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys like it so far! Feel free to send suggestions or locate me in tumblr as thetrunkofthenighttraveler and please leave comments, I appreciate it! also, if there's something you'd like for me to write in the story, I have no problem if I can work it out! 16 chapters are already written but I can try to modify it if it doesn't alter the original idea :)


	3. Conundrum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin and Strike meet after a long time and, as the police investigation for the murder of Mr. Heifsner advances, Strike will see himself in serious trouble.

September’s rain was falling again as Cormoran hung the phone after talking with his friend Nick, just catching up. Eric had just left, asking for the evening off to visit some family, so Cormoran didn’t expect the intercom to ring.

            “Yeah?” he grumbled into the intercom.

            “London police, we have some questions for you Mr. Strike.” An unfamiliar female voice asked. Strike frowned but pressed the button to open the door of the building anyway, and then waited as he heard two sets of steps go upstairs to his door, that he opened before they had the chance to knock.

            The air was knocked out of his lungs as he saw next to some lady stood Robin, who looked as she was about to throw up.

            “Robin...” Strike sighed.

            “This is Detective Rain, from London’s police” Robin intervened quickly, signalling to the blonde woman next to her “Detective, this is Mr. Strike.”

            “Nice to finally meet you, I’ve read a lot about you” Detective Rain smiled and Strike shook her hand barely looking at her, he was busier looking at Robin. For a married woman with the job of her life, Robin looked pale, tired, almost ill. There were bags under her eyes and stress reflected all over her “Mr. Strike, we have some questions we’d like to ask you.”

            “Sure.” Strike finally looked at her “About what?” he asked, still not moving to let them into his office.

            “About the suspected murder of Jared Heifsner, a good friend of Sir Randolph Whittaker. The information I’m about to share with you is strictly confidential, of course, and you won’t be allowed to talk about it with anyone except us, but Ms. Cunliffe here thought it could be a good idea to talk with you.” Strike nodded slowly, intrigued and curious, and let them into the building. Strike led the women through the empty and dark entry where Eric’s desk was to his office in the adjacent room. Strike turned the light on, since only his desk lamp had been on, and slumped his way to the two armchairs in front of his desk, offering them a seat.

            “Want some tea, coffee?” Strike offered.

            “No, thanks. We shouldn’t be taking much of your time.” Detective Rain said, sitting with the nervous redhead on the armchairs. Strike nodded again and sat on his chair, organising his desk a bit better, although it was already pretty neat.

            “So how can I help you?” Strike asked, trying to avoid looking at Robin so much.

            “Mr. Heifsner was found dead in his house, right in front of Sir Whittaker’s one. He’s been dead for six months, but Sir Whittaker kept receiving letters from him, apparently travelling the world, for six months. Our investigation had lead us to know Mr. Heifsner apparently emailed and fired all his service after putting a generous amount of money as a compensation in their bank accounts. We thought he might’ve just died of age, he was very old... but autopsy concluded he died from a drug overdose and there isn’t a single clue in his house pointing to murder, but we’re pretty sure he was murdered because we’ve been going after Heifsner for online fraud for years now and it stopped right when his death was made public. Someone stole his identity to perform fraud in his name, but we never had enough proof against a man of such good name to even try to arrest him, only interrogate him and he always defended his innocence.” Detective Rain explained “Now we know he was actually innocent and someone was just stealing his identity to commit the fraud and we suspect for some reason the same person that stole his identity, we have no clue who he was, also cared to send Sir Whittaker the letters and also knew Mr. Heifsner’s service and bank accounts enough to contact them, fire them and pay them. We’re looking for someone smart. We interviewed Sir Whittaker today and we thought his grandson, Jeff, given his records, could be after this for money or something. We are going to talk with him but as Ms. Cunliffe pointed out, Jeff Whittaker heavily dislikes police and it will probably be more useful to ask you about him than himself.”

            Strike nodded slowly lighting a cigarette and smoking long from it.

            “Well I don’t know how I can help you, detective. I haven’t heard of Whittaker in a very long time.” Strike explained “We don’t have a good relationship, as Robin might’ve told you.” Detective Rain nodded slowly.

            “I know you always blamed Mr. Whittaker of the death of your mother, Leda Whittaker, previously named Leda Strike.” Detective Rain said “And as a Detective, I know you’ve probably investigated a lot about him and could save us a lot of time. Do you think he’s the kind of man who could’ve killed so neatly Mr. Heifsner?” Strike shrugged and sat back on his chair.

            “I think he’s capable of murder, yes. But I never took him for clean, neat or organised, I can’t imagine him doing all of this without getting caught. Plus, he was smart but not intelligent: I don’t see him capable of pulling such a good game stealing identity, I don’t see him intellectually capable of imitating Heifsner’s handwriting enough for Sir Whittaker to gulp it, I don’t see him committing fraud in such a neat way he was never caught... he’s been caught of less. But we also should remember that he managed to walk free from killing my mother, so who knows.” Strike grunted. He wasn’t happy of this conversation at all. He didn’t like to even think of Whittaker and how he had let him go.

            “All right” Detective Rain nodded, sensing his dislike “Mr. Strike, whoever did this made a lot of money with the fraud. He had no reason to kill Mr. Heifsner unless he thought it would give him way more money or unless Heifsner knew the person who stole his identity and had found out what was going on and was about to catch him and call the police on him. Do you think Whittaker could’ve received any money from this?”

            “I have no idea. I didn’t even know the existence of Heifsner, I don’t know his relationship with Jeff Whittaker, and I can’t help you because I literally know nothing.” Strike stood up “I’m sorry, you’ll have to investigate around.”

            “Would you mind if I use your restroom before I go?” Detective Rain said suddenly. Strike raised his eyebrows, but nodded. Robin, refusing to stand there in all awkwardness with Strike, gestured to the door.

            “I’ll wait for you in the car.” Robin said.

            The next day, when Robin got to the office, she found Detective Rain stressed around his office, hanging up the phone and getting pale when she saw Robin.

            “Robin, I was about to call you.” Robin frowned at being called by her own name “Robin... I’m sorry to tell you this, but new evidence has been found at Heifsner’s house. We have to arrest Cormoran Strike.”

            “What?” Robin raised her eyebrows, surprised “He’s done nothing wrong.”

            “Yesterday I noticed Strike smokes the same cigarettes that were found in the crime scene, so when I went to the bathroom, I found a hair in a towel that was just like his hair, and sent it for its ADN to be compared to the one of the cigarette found at the crime scene. It coincided, Robin. I called Strike’s office and his secretary pointed out that Strike had been doing surveillance all day outside the office the day of the murder, and he hadn’t seen him all day. Strike had been alone, could’ve been anywhere. And this morning I received the news that all the money from the fraud Heifsner’s murdered committed went to a bank account created three years ago under the name of a Strike Blue. Cormoran’s full name casually is Cormoran Blue Strike, did you know?” Detective Rain informed her. Each new information made Robin feel more like throwing up “All our evidence indicates that Comoran, who three years ago was in economic trouble, created the bank account and well, he was in the military, he could’ve easily introduced himself to Heifsner, made him trust him enough to know the information needed to steal his identity and commit fraud in his name. Then, Heifsner probably found out and went to turn him to the police. It would’ve ruined Strike’s reputation and life, so Strike who’s killed already in the army, is trained, organised, smart, intelligent and skilful, who resolved two huge murder cases on his own, decided to kill him and keep stealing his identity. He had already made over three thousand pounds. But he made a mistake and let one of his used cigarettes on the crime scene. You know what the money in the account was used for?” Detective Rain continued “most of it was saved, but there has been uses for online shopping of the cigs Strike smokes, also for paying take out often of shops whose packages I saw in the trash can at Strike’s office, or to buy the same brand of beer of whose there was a bottle sitting on Strike’s desk last night.”

            “No” Robin shook her head, panicking “Cormoran would never- he’s awful with computers! He works very hard, he would’ve never done any of this, he’s incapable of killing an innocent person or committing fraud. Plus, he’s has economical troubles all the time I’ve known him, and why would he pay take out or cigs or beer with a bank card?” Robin shook her head “none of that makes any sense. Maybe he smoke a cig at Heifsner’s house-“

            “I recognize there are holes and we need more proof, but this is enough to arrest Strike for thirty two hours, Robin. Strike claimed not to know Heifsner’s existence yet his money went to an account that looks a lot like Strike opened it, and a cigarette smoked by Strike is on the crime scene. And you know the latest news? Just ten minutes ago we got the security recordings of Heifner’s house showing damn Cormoran Strike standing by the front door minutes before his murder. The next hours of recording have, casually, been corrupted and are useless. Strike has some explanations to make.”

            Robin pressed her eyes close, feeling her heart beating strongly in her chest. She knew Cormoran was innocent but she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to stop Detective Rain from arresting him, even if it was just for a few days of jail. The moment Detective Rain turned around to go for her belongings, Robin called Ilsa, Comoran’s friend.

            “Ilsa? Listen to me, I’m Robin Cunliffe, Strike’s ex partner. You need to listen, I don’t have much time. Detective Rain is about to arrest Cormoran for the murder of Jared Heifsner. He’s going to need you. Run.” Robin hung up in the middle of Ilsa’s questioning, right when Detective Rain was coming back inside.


	4. Dark clouds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Storm reaches Strike and he's interrogated by the police. Besides, he and Robin meet again.

“Robin, what the hell?” Strike asked. He was sitting in Detective Rain’s interrogating room, talking with Isla, his wrists handcuffed. Robin had managed to get Detective Rain’s out of her back and see Strike. She hadn’t been allowed to go with her to arrest him. Strike looked pale and truly concerned and Robin, anxious and stressed.

            “I don’t have much time” Robin said walking fast to Strike and putting a hand on his shoulder “Look at me!” she hissed, and Strike, fearful, looked at her straight in the eye. For the first time ever, he didn’t seem so big to her. Robin had tears in her eyes “Promise me that you’ve done nothing wrong. Promise me you’ve got nothing to do with this and I’ll do all I can to get you out of here.”

            “Robin” Strike was serious “I swear, Robin. You know I would never do any of this, I didn’t even know him!” Robin nodded, and removed her hand on time for Detective Rain to come in.

            “Robin, you shouldn’t be here” Detective Rain said. Robin looked down.

            “Yeah, sorry I just had to see him to believe it.” Robin said “Don’t worry, the security cameras will show you he didn’t just reveal something important.” She whispered to Rain, walking up to her.

            “I trust you.” Detective Rain nodded “Ms Herbert, I would like to proceed with interrogating Mr Strike, if it’s okay for you.”

            “Sure.” Ilsa nodded and Detective Rain and Robin sat across Cormoran and Ilsa.

            “Mr. Strike, what were you doing on the day of the crime?”

            “As my secretary Mr. Davenport said, I was out doing some investigating for one of my cases. I was following a woman whose husband thought she cheated on him, all day.”

            “The crime was at 8PM, where you still out following her?” Detective Rain asked. Cormoran seemed thoughtful for a moment before shaking his head.

            “No. She went back home at 5PM. I stayed there for an hour, saw she wasn’t going out anymore and decided to leave it for the day. I’ve been low on cash and had already spent in a taxi that day, forgot my bus card at home, so I decided to walk home, I wasn’t that far anyway. You could probably see street cameras or something seeing me go back to my building in Denmark Street? I’m sure I was there by 7PM. Mr. Davenport had asked me for permission to take the afternoon and evening off for some personal matters, so he wasn’t there when I arrived. I went home and stayed there for the rest of the night.”

            “Alone” Detective Rain remarked, and Cormoran nodded “Can you explain why there was a cigarette that you had smoked in the crime scene?”

            “No” Cormoran answered “Someone must’ve put it there. There is plenty of people dreaming of seeing me go down, it wouldn’t have been hard for them to watch me smoke by the entry of my building from afar any day, grab the cigarette with gloves and put it in the crime scene. The person who killed Mr. Heifsner would’ve done it in this case to frame me and see me go down for it.”

            “Can you explain why the security cameras of Mr. Heifsner’s door show you by it only minutes before the crime?”

            “No” Strike sighed “but if someone wanted to frame me, it wouldn’t have been too hard to Photoshop me there. I’ve seen it happen before in my job, to other people. I had no reason to kill Mr. Heifsner, I didn’t even know him.” Robin had never seen him nervous, but now, she did. Although she was sure she was the only one, since Strike was very good at putting up a good front.

            “Can you explain why there is a bank account on your name with a lot of money from the fraud the murdered committed, money that was used to pay things you generally consume?”

            “Me and many other people, thousands of them” Strike scoffed “plus it isn’t in my name. My name is Cormoran Strike. I have a bank account on my own, you have the data. I’m terrible with computers, I don’t have the computer skills to do most of those things... nor money to pay someone for me. I don’t know any Strike Blue, but whoever is framing me clearly knows me well enough, don’t you think?”

            “The one who makes the questions here” Detective Rain said “is me. And so far, you have no proof of your innocence.”

            “But there’s none that I wasn’t framed. Furthermore, it really looks as I was framed. And the worst part isn’t that an innocent man is handcuffed, but that there’s a very smart murderer out there walking free...”

            “Mr. Strike” Robin intervened “is incapable of committing a crime, Detective Rain. We would’ve found drugs in his power, the same used for the murder, we would’ve found some traces in his clothes, his shoeprints would’ve left trace in the house since that day it rained and the house is surrounded by garden...”

            “Enough, Ms. Cunliffe.” Detective Rain cut her sharply “You can get out. I’ll finish the interrogation myself.”

            Robin huffed but got out of the room not without previously shooting Cormoran an apologetic glance. A while later, she saw police escort Cormoran, handcuffed, to the holding cells.

            “We have him thirty six hours” Detective Rain said approaching her “we should have enough to either put him in prison or set him free without charges by then. Do you think you can stay in the case and be objective, or do I have to let you out of it?”

            “I’ll be objective” Robin said, seriously “believe me, if Strike did it, I’ll be the first one to kick his arse.” Detective Rain chuckled.

            “I don’t expect less of you Ms. Cunliffe.”

            The detective went back to work and Robin went downstairs to the cells. She was let in by the police and soon saw Ilsa standing in front of a cell, looking sadly at Cormoran, who sat inside the cell, alone and no longer handcuffed. He was frowning and looked angry.

            “Hi” Robin said. Ilsa looked at her and pressed her lips forming a smile.

            “Thanks for trying Robin” Ilsa said “and calling me so early. You could’ve gotten in trouble if they had found out.”

            “I don’t care, I’m not here to be promoted to lieutenant or something.” Robin shrugged and looked at Strike, who looked at her, suddenly seeming so small “Strike, who are you suspecting of?”

            “There’s far too much people, you know. Whittaker, Brockbank... we went through the list practically two days ago when we were after Laing.”

            “Yeah, but Whittaker is in prison at the moment.” Robin pointed out “And Brockbank... this doesn’t seem his style, doesn’t it?” Strike shrugged.

            “They don’t really have much against me” Strike pointed out “their case will fall down on its own weight. Wardle is already sneaking around trying to help, so is Shanker, I called them before leaving with the cops... and there’s Eric, my secretary, he’s efficient. He’s investigating.”

            “He’s a secretary, not...”

            “That never seemed to keep you from trying though” Strike said, looking at Robin with his dark blue-greenish eyes.

            “I”, Robin seemed to emphasize “will get you out of here in no time.”

            “Robin” Strike said calmly “don’t get in trouble for me. This is the police you work for, it won’t end up in just a firing or a tantrum. It will get you in serious trouble to intervene in my favour. Just make sure to keep yourself safe and cover your back... just in case whoever’s after me goes after you too. The past few months are more than what I’m willing to let you get hurt.”

            Robin stared speechless, but nodded.

            “I’ll see.” Robin said “Good luck, Corm.” She added, not daring to look at him as her eyes watered, and she got out.

            “Oh God” Matthew looked in disbelief at her as Robin told him everything that had happened during dinner “I can’t believe he would kill a poor old man!”

            “He didn’t!” Robin yelled angrily “Aren’t you listening, Matt? He’d never kill a fly.”

            “But proof says...”

            “That’s hardly proof.” Robin sentenced. Matthew rolled his eyes.

            “You can’t get yourself in prison trying to defend a m...”

            “Don’t” Robin pointed his finger as a stop sign, her eyes burning on Matthew’s “ever call him that. He’s innocent, and it will be proved. Police will have to apologise for this.”

            “You shouldn’t defend him!” Matthew claimed “if he truly was innocent, there wouldn’t be a cigarette of his... the camera caught him!”

            “Are you really so naive to believe that a camera footage can’t be manipulated?”

            “Are you really so stupid to shut your eyes close to all evidence?” Matthew said angrily. Robin shook her head looking at him, and turned around with tears in her eyes “I don’t even know how you can defend him. He’s antisocial, rude, strong, intelligent... he could’ve perfectly well... and he fired you!”

            “Well Matthew I’m not some resentful child willing to let a good man go to fucking prison for murder just because he fired me!” Robin yelled, her voice breaking “if you knew him half as well as I do, you’d know he’s the best man alive, completely incapable of... he risks his life to do good! He’s the best man alive!” Matthew looked at her straight in the eye.

            “The best... after me, your husband, right?” Matthew said. Robin’s jaw dropped slightly and she frowned.

            “What? How can you...?”

            “I just want to make sure that I’m still your number one.”

            “Seriously, Matthew? Now of all times?” Robin was so angry she was shaking, and Matthew had had enough.

            “Yes! And you still haven’t answered!” Robin shut up, unused to see him so angry at her, yelling so much. He usually barked but then was just a puppy. She was the fierce one. Matthew looked at her pleadingly for a while.

            “You two are different. I love you, don’t compare yourself to him.” Robin said in a low voice.

            “That doesn’t answer my question.” Matthew sentenced, and turned around “If it’s so hard for you to talk of me better than you talk of him, then maybe you should’ve married him instead.”

            Robin looked down, ashamed, and shook her head.

            “I’ve got more important things to do than this stupid argument.” Robin sentenced, turning around, and leaving the house. She needed to prove Cormoran’s innocence.


	5. Feelings uncovered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Strike's friends and family focus on proving his innocence, Robin recognises her true feelings for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thanks for your support, hope you're liking it so far? excuse me for any possible mistakes, English is not my first language and my corrector doesn't always nail it :) By the way, I'm basing characters' appearance more on the BBC series than the books, because when I imagine the story I can't help but doing it with those amazing actors, so it comes automatic. 26 chapters written so far :D

Forty eight hours after the arrest of Strike, police had found enough evidence against him to build a strong case against him and, no matter how much Ilsa tried, the judge thought Strike was better off in prison until the trial, so he was accused of murder, fraud, and stealing an identity, and confronted charges that could keep him in prison for the rest of his life. Lucy was a mess when she heard.

            Robin tried and tried time and time again to protect Strike, but every time it seemed like there was a light at the end of the tunnel, a new proof against him appeared. More cigs in scene, supposed conversations recorded in which a voice just like Strike’s confessed the murder to his secretary, the good old Eric Davenport, who said he had recorded it himself. Robin, sure that he was lying, investigated him, but couldn’t find a thing against him, only an impressive curriculum at Cambridge. Witnesses appeared suddenly swearing to have seen Strike come into Mr. Heifsner’s house right before his murder and leave shortly after. It all seemed so well staged it left Robin perplexed. And no matter how many hours she and Ilsa spent trying to defend him, it seemed worthless. Matthew, by the week after Strike’s arrest fully convinced of his guilt, didn’t do more than assure Robin to look at the evidences, making her angrier at him every day, and even more when he’d call her stupid for ‘denying the obvious’.

            The night before Strike’s trial, the man had been in prison for two weeks. Ilsa and Robin had gotten some strong points in his defence, including the testimony of the guy from Cormoran’s favourite take out place who swears Cormoran was there picking up dinner the day of Mr. Heifsner’s death too soon to his time of death to have had the time to be there if he came from Mr. Heifsner’s house.

            “We have enough for the judge to at least question the evidence that there’s against him” Ilsa said that night, as Nick, Lucy, her husband Greg, and Robin, all meet at the Herbert’s house for dinner, Lucy and Greg’s children at a friend’s house for the night. They were all so shattered by the news that they didn’t know what to do but sit together and try to find a way to explain everything and get Strike out of prison.

            “So they won’t be capable of sending him to prison definitely right?” Nick asked.

            “Unless the jury and the judge are very damn stupid...” Ilsa sighed “There can’t be so many witnesses against him. Someone must have paid. And that guy, Davenport, he has to be involved. Couldn’t you find anything against him really?”

            “Nothing, he’s got the most brilliant record there is. Cormoran checked himself before hiring him I’m sure.” Robin said suddenly not feeling so hungry anymore, and sighed. At least Strike had written official permission for Ilsa to change the locker of his office so now Davenport couldn’t enter, only the police. Strike had made it pass as concern for his clients’ privacy now that he wasn’t there to check and police let it happen.

            “He would never kill anyone.” Lucy said with teary eyes, in a whisper. Robin put a hand on her back, stroking softly, trying to comfort her.

            “We know. We’ll have him back soon.” Robin assured him, even though she too felt like crying just by thinking of poor Cormoran in prison “Plus, he knows how to defend himself. He’s okay, I bet.”

            “What a nightmare though” Nick said, sighing “wait until the prosecution pulls out Strike’s record of boxing and the noses he’s broken in the trial, and between that and his appearance...”

            “Shut up, I’d rather not think about it.” Ilsa said. But Robin was marvelled to see how she managed to be that bit of rude with Nick while putting a hand on his thigh very softly and resting her cheek on Nick’s shoulder, Nick kissing her head without resent. They were so sweet and in love and Robin wondered if she and Matthew were ever like that.

            ‘... _you’ll understand I do this because I care about you. It’s for your own good._ ’ Cormoran had written ‘ _I want you to be happy. You’ve chosen to spend your entire life with Matthew and I truly hope you chose as wisely as you are, and that he makes you as happy and loved as you deserve to be._ ’ ‘ _my life will never be the same without you. You made things... easy. Warm. Nice. Welcoming. Which is way I hate to have to break all relationship with you. From now on, we part ways... and I, as much as it hurts me, can’t be your friend anymore. I think deep down you understand why. I think you’ve always known, just like me._ ’. Robin fell asleep thinking and thinking of the words he had said and wondering if really, they both knew what truly was going on between them.

            “...I condemn mister Cormoran Blue Strike to spend life in prison for the murder of mister Jared...” Robin felt herself unable to breathe. Cormoran went pale. The whole trial it looked like Ilsa was going to make it and then the prosecution spoke and Strike’s defence was shattered to pieces. She heard Lucy’s outrage and as police got to him, Strike turned around, fixing his eyes on her, pleading eyes. And then she saw his lips move. She tried to read them, but she wasn’t sure. Had he just said, ‘I love you’? had he? Couldn’t be.

            “Corm...” Robin whispered staring at him, her eyes teary.

            After the trial, Nick and Ilsa took Lucy and Greg out for a few drinks, thinking they all needed to be drunk to gulp the hard blow. They were just outside the trial building, waiting for Lucy to come out of the bathroom, where Ilsa was helping her compose herself after all her crying and yelling. Robin was fighting with Matthew.

            “...why won’t you come home with me, you’re going to stay with them? He’s a murder, Rob...”

            “He isn’t! He’s innocent and yes, I’m going to stick with my friends...”

            “His friends...”

            “We believe in him! And we’ll get him out of prison no matter what you think...”

            “I can’t fucking believe it, how can you be so stupid....”

            “Stop!” Robin yelled. She was outraged and the people around where looking at them. Even Nick and Greg, who tried to pretend not to hear everything. Suddenly everything was so clear to Robin. She didn’t have doubts anymore. September was coming to an end, and so was Robin’s almost three months old marriage. There stood Matthew, a man who cheated on her, who always made him feel inferior and less, who made her more concerned and angry at the end of the day than happy... ‘ _as happy and loved as you deserve..._ ’ ‘ _you’ve always known, just like me’_. A tear streamed down Robin’s eyes “We’re done.” She whispered. Matthew’s eyebrows raised in surprise.

            “What? Come on, don’t exaggerate, we were just arguing... we’re married, Rob.” He suddenly sounded caring and soft.

            “No. You ruin _everything._ ” Robin felt the rage rise “You cheated on me, you failed to support me at my worst, you’re always making fun of me, my job and Corm, making me feel inferior and insecure, being unsupportive brat... and truth is, you’ll never be half the man he is. He saved my life, you ass. He’s always looking after me... While you were judging and being the worst fiancé, Cormoran was out there arresting the guy who could’ve killed me, and while you were messing with him and insulting him, he was advising me to let him go and not get in trouble. And that excellent job that I got? That was because _he believed in me_. He sees me for who I am, and he thinks damn highly of me and I’m pretty sure, I wouldn’t have gotten that job without his support.” Robin looked back at the drunken talks, all the times Cormoran looked after her, the way he looked at her and cared for her. The dress, the way he came running to her wedding all battered, before hospitals and all, the way he was there when she was attacked... she sobbed loudly and put a hand on her mouth. How had she been so stupid. Of course she knew, she always knew... and Cormoran had kicked her out of his life in hopes that she’d be happy with the guy _she_ wanted, even if he wasn’t what she deserved. Cormoran was. 

            Matthew stared at her frozen, perplexed.

            “Robin” Matthew cleared his voice “you’re making a scene. Let’s go home and talk...”

            “No!” Robin pulled her arm off his hold “I’m done with you. I want a divorce. And this is definitive. And now I’m going to go get my friend out of damn prison, and I don’t care if you hate it. Go snog one of your girls, jerk.” She threw her wedding and engagement ring together to his feet firmly.

            Robin turned around and walked decisively to Greg, Nick and Ilsa and Lucy, who were back already, ignoring Matthew’s pleas.

            “Are you okay?” Lucy asked, concern in her eyes that warmed Robin’s heart. But to be honest, Robin felt like a weight had been lifted off her chest along with her ring, and she smiled tearfully, nodded.

            “Now I am.” Robin said, showing off her empty finger. Ilsa couldn’t help but smile a little “Now let’s get my man out of prison, shall we?”


	6. Be my partner for everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin and Strike sort of confess their feelings for each other and Strike gets set free from prison in the worst of ways.

“What happened to you?” October arrived and Robin went to visit Cormoran in prison for the first time, since previously she hadn’t gotten permission, with all the paperwork necessary for each visit. She had just come from giving herself a perfect birthday present by signing her divorce from Matthew and now she was sitting on the other side of a glass, Cormoran on the other side. He had a purple eye and a bruised cheek, looked way thinner than Robin remembered him, and way more pale.

            “It’s nothing” Cormoran shrugged it off “someone punched me during a break, police separated him from me and I didn’t fight back, which police appreciated for my record. I thought if they know me as good conduct kind of guy I might get parole or something?” he seemed like a little hopeful child and it broke Robin’s heart.

            “Was it...” Robin’s lip trembled, afraid to ask “was it Jeff Whittaker? Because I heard... I heard they moved him to this prison the other day and...” Cormoran nodded slowly and Robin gasped.

            “It’s okay. I’m alright.” Cormoran assured her “I rarely have to see him. Police usually keeps us in opposite extremes of the prison, because they know we could get problematic.” Robin could see he was conscious that this was for her, that she needed to see him be okay, so he was giving it to her. Robin felt both touched and sad at this “It’s your birthday soon.” Cormoran added, seeming happier, with a small smile. Robin grinned.

            “You remembered.” Robin said.

            “Of course.” Cormoran replied, matter of factly “I left your present with Ilsa, before...” he shrugged.

            “Aw, you didn’t have to!” Robin was so touched she could cry. Suddenly she got very serious “I’m going to get you out of here, okay? I promise you.” Robin put a hand of the glass, as if she could touch him, and Cormoran, too touched by her efforts to talk, put his big hand over hers. Robin felt a tear wanting to escape her eye and Cormoran cleared his voice.

            “I think you lost your rings.” He commented. Robin chuckled sadly.

            “I didn’t. I’m Robin Ellacott from now on.” Strike’s eyes widened in surprise.

            “What?” Strike was surprised “I’m sorry Robin... are you okay?”

            “The only way for me to be perfect now would be getting to hug you” Robin confessed, blushing, and Cormoran blushed too “I quit my job. By the way, thanks for it, Nick confessed.”

            “That bastard...” Cormoran chuckled.

            “But I didn’t want to work for people that are so stupid, honestly. Damn bunch of incompetents, no surprise you’d solve most of their cases with your eyes closed.” Robin said smug, making Cormoran look honestly happy now. Robin felt warm at that “I’m serious, Corm...” both had noticed Robin’s recent use of that nickname, and it made Cormoran feel surprised that one could be feeling so great in prison even though he may never leave his cell “you’re a good guy. You truly are. And I don’t want to be a part of any team that is so brainless to think you could ever do something so wrong.”

            “Thank you, Robin” Cormoran feel himself getting emotional and sighed, looking away and trying to keep himself in check. He rarely broke down and he certainly didn’t want to do it so publicly.

            “Did you mean it, Corm?” Robin said, feeling brave suddenly “when you said... when you said your life wouldn’t be the same without me?” Cormoran nodded without daring to look at her “good... because...” Robin breathed to feel braver “because I never want to leave it, Cormoran. And you were right, we’ve always known... I can’t be with Matthew, or anyone else because... because only when I was your partner I was as happy and loved as I deserve to be.” Cormoran slowly lifted his gaze to look at her, gulping strongly, his eyes watered. He looked so intensely it seemed like he would burn Robin’s eyes. She had never seen him so emotional.

            “Would you...” Cormoran coughed to clear his voice “would you be willing to... be my partner, again? One day?” Robin grinned from ear to ear, tears falling freely now. Her voice was broken, but she didn’t care. She pressed her lips against the glass, right over Cormoran’s palm.

            “Only if I’m your partner for everything. I want us to be brave, Corm” Robin sobbed “let’s stop pretending... not when we know the truth. Everyone knows. Ilsa has been pushing for it for the longest time, I bet.” Cormoran chuckled, and nodded.

            “I guess we have a lot to talk about.” Cormoran whispered, his voice shaking “Damn... if I had had the balls... maybe things would’ve been better. I could’ve taken you on dates or something, and not like this...”

            “Sh...” Robin smiled “it’s okay. We’re good now. And once I get you out of here, I’ll never leave your side again.”

            “Promise?” Cormoran asked, with a vulnerability that made Robin combust “Because... because I’ve missed you, Robin. A lot.”

            “I promise. God, I’ve missed you so much too, so, so much...” Robin sniffled.

            “Don’t cry...” Cormoran blinked away the tears himself. Robin smiled through the tears.

            “And you hold on for me okay? Stay strong. Don’t let anyone get to you. You’ll be out of here soon, and I promise you soon we’ll be spending your birthday at the Tottenham, getting drunk to our asses, okay?” they both chuckled and Cormoran nodded.

            “I’m holding you on that.”

            “I always thought you’d be great together.” Ilsa said later that day, matter of factly, as Robin recounted the morning’s events. Ilsa couldn’t hide her grin if she wanted.

            “Gee, one good thing that happened finally.” Nick looked smug about it “Old Corm finally got out of his shell.” Robin blushed hard.

            “Here” Ilsa finally got a tiny package out of a tall shelf and gave it to Robin. She took it to the couple’s guests room, which had been her room since she left Matthew and now had dozens of cartoon boxes in it around her bed.

            Robin sat on her bed and opened the tiny package. Inside, there was a beautiful necklace, simple, with a silver chain and what looked like a tiny small drop that contained a tiny diamond. It must’ve cost so much for Strike’s broken pocket. Robin smiled putting it on, and saw a note inside the necklace.

            ‘ _The word diamond comes from adamas in Greek, which means indestructible. Diamonds also happen to be the hardest natural substance, and also, one of the prettiest. It also happens to go really well with green dresses. Is obvious why it would remind me of you, don’t you think? Happy birthday, Robin. Hope you have the best day. Strike._ ’

            Robin couldn’t help but cry.

**. . .**

Cormoran was woken up by the sirens of the prison and complete chaos. His five senses got fully awake and he jumped out of his bunker bed, along with the inmate he shared his cell with. They both got out of the cell, seeing as all the doors opened automatically all of the sudden. Chaos reigned in the prison and it froze Cormoran’s bed.

            “Shit” Strike whispered. All around him, inmates, armed with sharp objects that God only knew where they came from, were fighting off the guards. Strike went to help one, but before he could reach him, he felt a gun pressed to his spine right in his back, and heard the trigger.

            “Walk” he heard Whittaker grumble “unless you want me to shoot you right now.” Suddenly another two inmates were around them, looking threateningly at Strike, and Strike understood in a building full of murders or people condemned for big things, there was nowhere to go.

            Strike went with Whittaker between the chaos, that seemed to slow down around Whittaker, who Strike noticed, was wearing police clothing, as well as the gun. Somehow they exited the prison.

            “Finally dad” Smug as he was, Eric Davenport stood next to a truck. Strike’s eyes widened and Whittaker laughed.

            “Ah, the great investigator couldn’t find out what was right in front of his face.” Whittaker said, and suddenly Strike felt a sting in his neck and everything went black.


	7. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short dramatic chapter. Strike confronts Whittaker.

“There’s been a huge riot in the prison. Whittaker and Cormoran are both missing.” Ilsa woke Robin up, and Robin felt as she might faint.

Meanwhile, Cormoran woke up slowly from his slumber, finding himself handcuffed to a metal bar that didn’t break no matter how hard Cormoran pulled, in what seemed like an industrial unit with no windows and the smell and sound of the ocean outside. His prosthetic leg lied shattered at his feet.

“Well, well” Whittaker and Davenport walked slowly to him, appearing through a door.

“Not quite original, but okay” Strike said smug. Whittaker’s smile didn’t disappear.

“I’d like to introduce you to your baby brother, Switch LaVey Bloom Whittaker.” Whittaker said proudly putting an arm over Davenport’s shoulders.

“I’m sorry to say my mother might have gotten pregnant of someone else behind your back then.” Cormoran said, trying to earn time. Whittaker slapped Cormoran across his face, hard.

“That stupid girl couldn’t have even if she wanted. Nobody wanted her anymore.” Strike felt angry and powerless. Whittaker was just as he remembered it, only forty three years old and with white hair now, and the skin covered in wrinkles.

“Maybe this helps.” Switch Whittaker moved his fingers to his eyes, retiring two lenses that revealed his real eye colour, hazel just like his father’s. Then he threw a water bottle on his head and brushed it with a towel that came off yellow, revealing dark, curly hair “It’s just a cream, easy to remove with water. Years of theatre help one do amazing performances and customs, don’t you think?”

“So you planned this all along” Strike grumbled “what’s the plan now, Whittaker and Junior?”

“Easy” Whittaker said “I’m going to have my revenge on you for everything that you did. How you testified against me, you ungrateful bastard...” Whittaker shook his head “by the time they find your body, my son and I will have run away with all the money from the stupid naive old man. And you’ll be too far gone for anyone to help.”

“Smart.” Strike nodded “Would you mind to please, first explain me how you pulled this whole thing out? I’m intrigued as to how did I miss it.” Strike tried to seem truly amazed and surprised, conscious that every minute was golden for Robin to figure it all out and find him.

“Well, it was all pretty easy actually. I had been looking for my father for years.” Whittaker Jr., explained “After talking with him a while, he said that if I helped him get out of prison, we could get some money and run far away, be a family like we always wanted, finally. And we decided it would be a great time to have some revenge on you too, the man who caused so much damage to my father’s image... but we needed money. I knew old Jared wouldn’t see it coming if I stole his money, years studying all about software while pretending to be my classmate Eric and be working in the software business. Please, I was too smart for that crappy job, and why work when you can take advantage of the fame and well name of others? Eric died of a mysterious accident after university, and it wasn’t hard to take his name.” Jeff looked proudly at his son “Old Randy was too smart and awake to steal from him, but he was easy to cheat pretending to have a big job in Scotland. I knew Jared was getting old and easy to trick, so I easily planned, with the help of my father, how to get into his life, his home, steal his identity and his money. He never saw it coming, for the most part, until he became such a danger to myself that I had to get rid of him. Then I just had to analyse his handwriting with a software and computer create one that was the same, so I could write letters to Randy pretending to be him. It was all so easy... It was my father’s genius idea to frame you, for which I needed the job at your office. Once I was close enough to you I could grab things during your continuous excursions, prepare Jared’s house...”

“Genius” Cormoran whispered.

“Yeah right?” Jeff chuckled “and then we had so much money. Then all my genius kid had to do was steal some money from the account of a woman who was too easy to track, always buying online anything that seemed trustworthy. My son had it so easy to grab her money and put it in the account that the police found of Strike Blue, so they’d think all the money was on you, and not safely in our suitcases.”

“Ms. Arson...” Strike said suddenly, and the Whittakers laughed, nodding satisfied.

“She was just so easy.” The youngest man said “I also made the anonymous call that discovered Jared’s body once everything was ready to frame you, so we could start the game.”

“But why get me out of prison?” Strike said “you had what you wanted.”

“This is, that was too easy” Jeff said “I wanted to kill you with my own bare hands, Cormoran, not give you a life in prison with all expenses paid and the visits of your friends sending you nice gifts every now and then. So we decided to take you with me.”

“I killed Eric, it was easy to kill Jared and make it seem like an accident. And so it will seem when the police finds you.” Whittaker Junior said, looking smug and satisfied.

“My son and I have to finish a few last minute things for our trip” Whittaker said “but we’ll be right back to take care of you. Don’t try yelling, it won’t help you.”

**. . .**

It wasn’t long before Wardle had found track of the police truck that had been used for Whittaker and Strike to escape. The truck had a hidden tracking system in case it was stolen, as so did most police vehicles, and not long after, they found all beaten up by the side of the road, near the coast. Not much far away, there was an abandoned industrial polygon, near the beach, so the police hurried up to get there. Robin was with them, after convincing Wardle that she needed to be there.

Right by the door, they found a dead body, covered in blood, on the floor.

“Stay away Robin” Wardle said, going to examine the body “isn’t this Switch Whittaker? The son of Jeff and Leda?” Wardle said, surprised. Robin’s eyebrows rose “He’s been shot.”

“Strike didn’t do this Wardle.” Robin hurried to defend him, her heart pounding in her chest.

The police burst in the industrial unit and, between columns of abandoned boxes and shelves, they suddenly found a part that was in total chaos and there, they found Jeff Whittaker, lying on the floor covered in bruises and blood, barely breathing. Far away there was a police gun on the floor, and very close to Whittaker, there was a body without half a leg, motionless, face down in a pool of blood in the floor.

“Cormoran!” Robin ran to Strike and carefully turned him around, gasping at the image and feeling her eyes water. There, in front of him, laid Strike, white as a sheet, his eyes closed, his lips colourless, blood pouring copiously out of his stomach. His hands, as well as most of his body and face, where covered in scratching and recent bruising, and blood in the parts where skin had come off. Robin pressed shaky fingers against his neck and breathed in relief “He’s alive! Call 999, now!” she screamed, ripping Cormoran’s shirt off to reveal his hairy chest and abdomen, covered in blood, and pressing her own jacket against his abdomen, where blood seem to be pouring from.


	8. I love you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dramatic moment leads to romance

 

Cormoran Strike had been in bed for a week, unconscious. Robin, Lucy, Greg, Nick and Ilsa, were there every day, watching over him, and some other friends like Shanker, who was very affected by everything, or Wardle, passed by every now and then. Cormoran’s Uncle Ted and his wife Aunt Joan had come all the way from St. Mawes, Cornwall, and that afternoon they were all in Strike’s room, sitting comfortably and anxiously.

Jeff Whittaker hadn’t made it to the hospital. He had such a bad brain bleeding that, with his age, didn’t take long to take his life away. His ADN was found all over the same gun that killed his son and put a bullet in the leg of a prison guard that was found nude but alive, and in Cormoran’s abdomen, a gun Cormoran hadn’t touched. The exact same amount of money that Jared Heifner’s family had missed was in a car outside the building, under the name of Switch LaVey Bloom Whittaker, along with coloured cream to temporary dye his hair blonde and fake blue lenses, and in his pocket, fake identities that identified him as Eric Davenport, an old classmate that had mysteriously died after he graduated university. Strike Blue’s bank account was tracked to Strike’s office, and since Davenport aka Whittaker worked there too and owned the only computer in the office - dozens of witnesses, between which was Robin, could testify that Strike hated computers, was terrible with them, and spent most of the time doing surveillance outside -, it wasn’t hard to reason that Whittaker was after it. Eric Davenport’s house also contained the exact same drug used to kill Jared Heifner, and in his laptop police found video edits of camera recordings in which he had manipulated images of Strike, as well as the same letters Sir Whittaker had received, supposedly of Mr. Heifner. His bank account had also given some money to the same people that had testified against Strike.

In consequence, Strike’s name was cleared officially, and a general statement of apologise was issued. He was declared innocent of all charges, and his record was cleaned.

“My sweet boy...” Aunt Joan sat next to Cormoran’s bed stroking his hair gently. Although his skin had some more colour and his beard had been shaved nicely, along with his hair had been nicely cut a little, he still looked pale. His eyes were closed, one of them, that had been swollen the size of a tennis ball, was now just slightly purple, as well as it’s adjacent cheek. His inferior lip was swollen, his neck bruised, his hands bandaged, the parts of his arms that were visible bruised too, and his one leg and a half supported on a pillow under the sheets. There was a bandage under his hospital gown, all around his abdomen, and many hidden bruises.

“At least no Whittaker will never put a finger on our family again.” Lucy said rubbing her aunt’s back affectionately. Joan nodded visibly affected. Robin sat on the feet of the bed looking at Strike attentively, taking relief on the way his chest rose and soft snores left his body periodically. It didn’t matter the IVs or the cables disappearing inside his sheets, to her, he was still the most handsome man on Earth, as she had just come to admit.

“All thanks to our sweet Robin, we’ve been blessed.” Uncle Ted chuckled squeezing Robin’s shoulder, but Robin shook her head.

“I did nothing.” Robin said with a heavy heart “It was Whittaker who got him out of prison, and it was the police who finished up the investigation and found him as free as we knew he was all along.”

“Nonsense” Ilsa intervened “you always believed in him. You stood up for him in front of the cops and everything. I think knowing you believed in him made the whole change for him.”

“Cheesy” grunted Strike, his eyes opening slightly and blinking. He sounded as if he had a huge weight on top “but truthful.”

“Corm!” Robin grinned and approached him by the other side of Joan “You’re awake! How are you feeling?” Robin said passing her fingers through Strike’s dark locks of hair.

“A bit high” Strike grumbled “’s good.” Robin smiled nicely.

“Do you need anything sweetheart?” asked Aunt Joan affectionately with her thick Cornish accent “Do you need the doctors?”

“Water?” Strike croaked.

“I think you can’t drink yet” Robin said “but the doctor was fine with this...” she took a tiny sponge off a plate on the nightstand, dipped it in a glass of water, and pressed it against Strike’s lips, watering them a little. Strike hummed in appreciation pressing the sponge between his lips “better?” Strike nodded.

“Whittaker?” Strike asked after a while.

“Dead.” Robin asked “You killed him, apparently. But no worries, Ilsa already alleged it was self defence, and since now your innocence has finally been proved and you’re free of charges, they decided it seemed legit.”

“He confessed” Strike whispered “he told me he killed my mother.” Robin stared at him surprised.

“Son of a...” Lucy grunted, and Robin had never seen her pissed “he better be in hell now.”

“Is that why you killed him?” Nick asked standing near Robin. Strike looked tired, but made an effort to keep himself awake.

“He said he wanted to kill me but that he wanted me to fight back... and I didn’t want to give him... the satisfaction” Strike whispered “so I wasn’t... defending myself. Then... then... he described me how he killed my mother... how he did it to leave no trace... how he thought he’d inherit something... he said he’d made her sing him in her will when... when their baby...” Strike coughed and Robin soothed him calmly “it made me very angry.” Strike sentenced. Robin nodded in understanding and Strike looked at her with watery eyes “’m sowy... ‘know ya didn’t want me t... to kill...”

“In this case scenario, I wouldn’t have accepted him getting out alive, Corm. I would never judge you for getting rid of the dude that killed your father and God knows which other atrocities he committed.” Robin calmed him gently, and Strike nodded “You should rest some okay? Keep getting stronger so we can take you home soon.”

“Rob’n” Strike whispered closing his eyes “d’you h’ve a home?”

“Matthew and I sold our house when we divorced”, Robin explained “I’ve been staying at Ilsa and Nick’s. But you’ve got your apartment, and I’ll be there to take care of you too. I can sleep downstairs at the office?”

Strike seemed asleep for a while but then, maybe because he was high on drugs and painkillers, he said something that made Robin blush and her insides warm with hope.

“We’ll get a n’ce hoom one day, Rob’n...”

That night, Robin stayed with Strike for the night. He was sound asleep and she was reading a private investigator’s journal while sitting on an armchair next to Strike’s face, positioning so his face was visible right next to the pages at all times, illuminated by the small lamp on the nightstand, that didn’t seem to bother Strike in the slightest, as he snored all through the night. For Robin, the scare of finding him almost dead had been enough to keep her from sleeping much these days.

“R’b’n” Strike grumbled in a whisper, his eyes still closed. Robin closed the journal immediately, setting it on the night stand and leaning forward towards Strike, holding his left, big hairy hand, between her own. Her breath caught for a few seconds as she paid attention, waiting for Strike to say something more, seeing his eyelids move as if he was fighting off the sleep “Robin...” he repeated more clearly this time.

“I’m here Corm...” Robin said clearly, leaning forward and using one of her hands to delicately stroke his cheek “I’m here...” his eyes opened a little staring at her, blinking slowly. Robin smiled warmly at him “hi there handsome...”

“Hey” Cormoran’s lips pressed into a small smile “what’re you doin’?”

“I was just reading, but you’re far more interesting.” Robin said gently squeezing his hand “Can I do anything for you?” Strike shook his head briefly.

“Stay?” Strike asked, and Robin suddenly could see nineteen year old Strike, all battered and sobbing after his mother’s death.

“Always.” Robin promised. Strike stared at her for a while, as if he had something more to say, but instead, his mouth shut, just looking at her. After a while longer, he asked.

“What happened?”

“It’s a long story” Robin said.

“Bed time story?” Strike grumbled with a small chuckle, and Robin laughed softly.

“Bed time story, sure.” Robin nodded “There was a... a beautiful, young woman, called Leda Strike. She didn’t have much luck in life, except when two awesome, precious children came to her life, little Cormoran and his little sister Lucy.” Strike smiled softly, looking at her attentively, like urging her to go on “But Leda’s luck brought bad men into her life and economical problems, leading her to fall for a bad man who only cared about the richness he believed she had. His name, Jeff Whittaker. After a while, Jeff got Leda pregnant and they got married to then have a son, Switch LaVey Bloom Whittaker. But Jeff never truly loved or cared for them, so he killed Leda, hoping to get a huge amount of money that never came. By then, Lucy had already left to live with her Uncle Ted and her Aunt Joan in St. Mawes, Cornwall, but young Cormoran had wanted to stay and protect his mother. However, he was in University and he was too young to confront a man like Whittaker, so there was nothing he could do, even if he had been there, to save his mother.” Robin assured gently, feeling Cormoran’s hand relax in hers, his cheek supported gently on her hand “Cormoran testified against him in court, and the baby was taken to live with Sir Randolph Whittaker, a wealthy Englishman, and his wife, who were the baby’s great grandparents. They raised him good, but somehow, Whittaker Jr., got out of wagon and fancied his dad, wanting to be famous and rich like his father had wanted. So he met a young successful boy, Eric Davenport, in Cambridge, and became close friends with him. One day, as they celebrated alone their graduation, he killed Davenport, whose body was never found, and assumed his identity using his experience of customs, art and acting to make his parents believe, with letters, that Davenport had ran away from home to never come back. That’s how he lived a double life, as Davenport and as Whittaker. Then, when he located his father, years later, in prison, his father told him all about his hate for Cormoran, and how if he helped him, they could be a family, have money and everything they ever wanted.” Cormoran kept listening, attentive “Jeff Whittaker never loved his son, nor cared for him, but persuaded him to work for Cormoran at his office, pretending to be Davenport then, getting Cormoran to trust him. After all, Cormoran had never known his brother more than as a little two year old. Then, Jeff persuaded his son to commit fraud, taking advantage of poor old man Jared Heifsner, his great grandfather’s neighbour and old friend of the family. Jared trusted him, and noticed too late how Whittaker had stolen his identity and made a lot of money. When Jared started suspecting, Whittaker killed him just like his father had killed Leda and taught him to do, without leaving any traces, and then Whittaker used his closeness to Cormoran to frame him for the murder and call the cops to find Jared’s body when the time was right and their whole plan was ready. Then he hacked the computer of an innocent woman, Ms. Arson, stealing money from her bank account and moving it to an account created from Cormoran’s office to frame him, under the name of Strike Blue, Cormoran’s middle name and surname, so police would think he did it and used that name to hide his identity a little. The Whittakers set everything for the police to think that the money in Strike Blue’s account was the money stolen from the fraud committed in the name of Mr. Heifsner, and Ms. Arson never realised of the whole thing. Then, the youngest Whittaker used his skills with computer software and arts to manipulate images of Cormoran into security camera’s footage of Heifsner’s house and paid some witnesses to declare they saw him around Heifner’s house at his time of death, he fired Heifsner’s service with an email, paying them pretending to be Heifsner, and made sure no one would find the body until he called the police, when by then the money was in suitcases in his car. Then he hacked the computers needed for Cormoran and Whittaker to end up in the same prison, and the Whittakers prepared a prison riot, during which the youngest got them out, dressed as cops stealing their uniforms and a gun, and got them into a police truck without knowing many police vehicles have a tracking system in case they’re stolen. Police soon tracked the truck and Wardle, Cormoran’s friend and policeman, found the beaten up trunk near the coast, abandoned next to a road. Then police realised there was an abandoned industrial polygon not too far away, which seemed a great place for fugitives to hide, and there they found the youngest Whittaker dead, his car full of Heifsner’s money and fake identity as Eric Davenport, along with hair dying products and fake blue contacts, and the bullet that killed him coincided with a gun that his father used to kill him and shoot Cormoran. But Cormoran put up a good fight, causing Whittaker senior such injuries he died before reaching the hospital. Then, police found so much evidence in the Whittakers and Junior’s apartments to realise Cormoran had been framed, issued a public apologise and retired all charges, cleaning Cormoran’s name for good. That’s what happened sweetie.” Robin finalised gently looking at Cormoran, her eyes full of love.

“Does Cormoran” Strike asked with a low voice “have someone who loves him? Maybe... maybe a redhead?” Robin blushed and smiled, unsure if Cormoran would remember any of it later. At the end, he was just high. But she nodded anyway.

“Turns out I love Cormoran Blue Strike so very much” Robin whispered, stroking his cheek, her watery eyes, the necklace Cormoran gifted her hanging from her neck “what a surprise, uh?” Cormoran chuckled softly.

“Good ‘cause... I love you so very much too, R’bin” Cormoran grumbled. Robin grinned, and leant more, pressing a firm, but sweet kiss, against Cormoran’s lips, that he immediately corresponded with all the enthusiasm he could muster.


	9. The Ellacotts and the Strikes meet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some sweet family reunion times

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You MIGHT notice some timeline mistakes because I noticed one, went to fix it but you see, I have forty chapters written, so it's possible that I might not have corrected it entirely if I didn't see its presence in all the chapters. Hopefully, all is right :-) Hope you like it and thanks for the reviews!

In the morning, Strike was feeling loads better and the doctors consented on lowering the medication, making him way more awake and lucid, and also gave him a soft soup for lunch. Robin was helping him eat it as he sat up on the bed and she sat beside him, facing him with the soup on a hand and the spoon in the other, while Lucy talked with her Aunt and Uncle sitting on chairs on the other side of the bed and Ilsa and Nick, who had taken a few days off work each, sat on chairs nearby, chatting on them. Robin and Cormoran would sometimes intervene in the conversation, but not much. Greg was at work and children’s duty.

“Was that good?” Robin asked with a smile and affectionate eyes when Cormoran finished the last of the soup.

“Much better than prison food, thanks.” Cormoran smiled grateful, reaching a hand to stroke Robin’s thigh affectionately. Robin left the plate aside and put a hand over Cormoran’s rubbing the back of his hand gently with a thumb. He was so thin now, but Robin expected for him to gain some weight now, although she had to admit he did need to lose a few pounds from how he used to be, even if not that many. Finding the truth about his mother and making justice seemed to have removed a huge weight out of Cormoran’s shoulders, or maybe it had been the whole experience, or all together. But truth be told, he smiled more, seemed happier and more affectionate, was more grateful, more willing to talk with his sister, brother in law, and family in general, even happy to see the drawings his nephews had made for him that Lucy had brought in that morning. Robin liked to think she had something to do with his recent cheerfulness.

“My family will be here any time now.” Robin informed, checking the time in her watch. Michael and Linda Ellacott had insisted on coming to visit Cormoran as soon as they could, even more when Robin communicated them that Cormoran and her and finally ‘sort of started something’ and then they wanted to know him better. They had always been intrigued, after everything Robin had told them about him and after the time Linda had met him.

“It’s very nice of them to come and visit” Aunt Joan said affectionately. She adored Robin and only expected the rest of her family to be as easy to like “I can’t wait to meet them!” then, there was a knock on the door.

“Well, it seems you won’t have to wait long, Auntie” Cormoran said. For some strange reason, he wasn’t nervous, as he would’ve expected himself to be “door’s open!”

The door peeked open and Linda, Michael and Martin Ellacott came in with kind expressions and a bouquet of flowers with a box of chocolates, for Cormoran.

“For when your stomach recovers” Michael said leaving it all on top of a short bookshelf. Cormoran had had a bullet visit his stomach and although the bullet and the consequent infection were gone, he still had to recover better.

“Thank you.” Cormoran said truly grateful.

“We always believed you were innocent” Martin, the youngest of the four Ellacott siblings, declared, and Cormoran chuckled looking at Robin.

“That’s nice, thanks.” He said. Robin rolled her eyes.

“How are you feeling sweetheart?” Linda Ellacott was an older version of Robin, which made Cormoran think that Robin would never stop being attractive.

“I’m doing better, Ms. Ellacott. Just tired.” Cormoran said.

“Is time for introductions, isn’t it?” Uncle Ted said cheerfully with her Cornish accent thick as ever “I’m Ted Strike, Corm’s Uncle. This is my wife Joan and Corm’s little sister, our niece Lucy.” He introduced. There was a murmur of chairs moving and cheerful introductions as everyone introduced themselves to everyone, including Nick and Ilsa.

“So you also grew in Cornwall?” Michael asked Ilsa, noticing her accent.

“Yeah, Corm and I have been friends forever.” Ilsa answered with a smile. The Ellacotts were the kind of nice, easy going, gentle family that instantly made you feel warm and at home, no matter who you were. Ted and Joan were of the same wood, so it was easy for them to get along.

“How’re Stephen and Jonathan?” Cormoran asked. Stephen was Robin’s only older brother, while Jonathan was the third of the siblings.

“They’re good, Stephen, my oldest, is very busy these days, as he’s getting married in December”, Linda explained to everyone “and Jonathan wanted to come, but he’s stuck at work, trying to do the most now so he can take a few days off for Christmas and be home with us. They’re all good, happy boys.”

“Stephen’s fiancée is one awesome lady” Robin said “glad to be having a sister, finally.”

“We tried girl, you’ve got three brot...” Michael joked, earning a playful slap on the shoulder from his blushing wife.

“Hey!” Lucy complained “I pretty much consider you a sister already!”

“Aw, thanks Lucy, feeling’s mutual for sure.” Robin smiled at Cormoran’s little sister, thankful. Even though Lucy was only a couple years younger than Cormoran, she looked as she had the same age as Robin, making the redhead wonder how it was possible to live such a stressed life while looking so young.

They all sat and chatted for a while, them deciding to avoid commenting Robin and Cormoran’s obvious affection towards each other, knowing it was too soon for them to clear out what they were or have a date. Robin thought the topic would be avoided altogether until her brother stepped right in the hole.

“I must say Cormoran, that I like you as my sister’s boyfriend. Not like that useless brat of Matthew...”

“Martin!” Michael hissed as Cormoran and Robin exchanged looks, blushing “your sister and Cormoran haven’t made it official yet, shut up...” he tried to say it low enough for only Martin to hear, but the room wasn’t that big. Cormoran decided to be an adult and step up, letting his shyness aside and clearing his throat.

“As a matter of fact, Mr. Ellacott...” he started.

“Michael, please.” Michael replied kindly.

“Yes, Michael...” Cormoran nodded, correcting himself, and scratched his beard nervously “I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind it if, well, when I’m in a better state of health, I asked your daughter out, on a date.” Robin was so surprised by his forwardness that she blushed so hard it was difficult to distinguish her hair from her skin. Cormoran felt his ears hot. Michael and Linda exchanged pleased looks.

“I think I speak for my whole family” Michael said “when I said nothing would make us happier, son.” Cormoran pressed his lips into a tiny nervous smile “Like my son so nicely pointed out, we’re happy to have Matthew out of our family. You are, for all we’ve heard, everything any family would want for their only daughter.” Robin had turned around, a while ago, to sit beside Cormoran on his bed, holding his hand between hers, so she could look at everyone else instead of giving them her back and, in that moment, she couldn’t help but standing up and giving her father the biggest hug with watery eyes. With Matthew, her family had just accepted they’d be together forever, that it was Robin’s choice, but with Cormoran, they knew it was a product of a history of adults, that made sense and that inevitably pulled them together in an adult way. They knew no one respected and cared for Robin the way Cormoran did.

“It truly means a lot to us” Cormoran said. Ted happily squeezed his nephew’s shoulder, satisfied “although I do wonder, Robin... I still haven’t quite understood, since I wasn’t quite there, what happened with Matthew. Is it really over?” Robin turned around and resumed her position next to him, kissing him on the cheek.

“Of course is over” Robin assured “I signed the divorce papers right before my birthday. We made an agreement to sell our house and divide the money between us. He’s gone for good, I don’t even care to know what’s happened to him these days.”

“I mean...” Cormoran was nervous to be having that conversation and even more in front of their family “I mean... you guys seemed so happy...”

“You say it yourself, seemed” Robin shrugged, nervous as well “I guess I always figured, since he was my only boyfriend ever since like, always, that he was my husband. It was as if there was no other acceptable option and it took me so much to realise it was simply wrong. You helped, of course.” Robin chuckled a little “Matthew was always judgemental of everything I did. Always complaining about my job and the money I did, for so long, not to mention he cheated on me sleeping with Sarah Shadlock when I was suffering from the trauma of being raped, back in University, and lying to me about it ever since, time after time, which already made me separate from him once not so far ago and call off the wedding, remember?” Cormoran nodded slowly, feeling like punching Matthew “his comments judgemental of everything, disrespectful, sexist and being like, if he was better than everyone else, bothered me more every passing day. I shouldn’t have gone back to him to begin with. He didn’t love me for who I am, but for who he thought he could make me be. I couldn’t be fully me with him, ever. He hated my love for horses, cars, investigation... god, he hated the Land Rover and he didn’t even like dogs, which should’ve already been a heads up for me. He was a disrespectful, judgemental husband, who expected for me to leave me job and bear his children while also make enough money for him to have a fancy car and a fancy house of which I would, of course, have to take care of. Not to mention he always put stupid excuses to avoid cooking and he was selfish and egocentric. I guess I haven’t loved him for a very long time... he just always managed to drive me back every time I was pulling away, I guess. But I’m happy it’s finally over and very glad we didn’t get to have children who’d now be in the middle, suffering. I’m really happy with this, Corm. I wanted you, for longer than... I think everyone knew since always, and we were the only two not seeing it.” Robin said sweetly looking at Cormoran.

“We did all expect you to be together since way sooner...” Lucy mumbled discreetly, and Ilsa hummed in approval.

“I just wanted to make sure that, well, you were okay for this. I don’t want to pressure... I mean, if you wanna go slow or maybe be single for a while, it’s totally okay...” Cormoran grumbled nervously avoiding her gaze.

“Nah, we’ve lost time enough when we could’ve been way happier together all along, don’t you think?” Robin chuckled playfully elbowing Cormoran, who looked up with eyes full of hope and bright, forgetting everyone in the room. He finally chuckled.

“I really love you, Robin.” Cormoran said. Robin felt her eyes water as she blushed.

“I really love you too, Corm.” Robin said, before leaning in for a kiss, both of them ignoring everyone’s awing and being in their own little world far from everyone else for a change.


	10. Home is where the heart is [Sexual Content towards its end]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strike's taken home, to a renewed business and attic, and Robin and him have their first magical night.

Robin soon took over Cormoran’s office, and Strike suggested they renamed their business ‘C. B Strike & R. V. Ellacott Private Investigators’. When the new plaque for their door came, Robin was beaming with pride and had to text Cormoran, who was still in the hospital, a picture, which made Cormoran chuckle in his bed, all lovey-dovey, like Nick had nicknamed it. While Cormoran was in the hospital for an extra week, Robin decided to surprise him by giving the office a change of look. She got all the little imperfections fixed, changed light bulbs, cleaned in deep, had the office and the reception all painted, put some new plants, new elegant blinds in the windows, along with some nice looking curtains, and added some nice framed paintings that she knew Strike would approve, put some plants on vases by the floor, and added a giant magnetised whiteboard on one of the walls, where they could put all the things of their cases such as pictures, newspaper pieces, and also write notes around. She also made a mural out of the happy news of the most important cases they had resolved for their future clients to see when they came to meet them, and bought Cormoran a new desk since his was falling in pieces, putting another one for herself right in the opposite extreme of their new shared office. She found a new sofa for the entry, where the secretary’s desk stood, new coffee mugs, new coffee maker, and made the bathroom more decent. She organised Cormoran’s books and folders in the office exactly how Strike liked it, and after thoroughly investigating for a new secretary, she found a nice hardworking lady named Ginny, that was in her late forties like Strike, and had an impressive curriculum. She spent hours to make sure she hadn’t stolen an identity or committed any other questionable actions.

Robin also took the liberty to extend her labours to Strike’s apartment, right on top of the office, that they had agreed to share now, for which Strike had pressured her to go and make herself at home, making any changes that she doomed necessary. Robin was smart enough to know how to do it without erasing Strike’s vibe and while still feeling like home for Strike, and not like some stranger’s flat. She painted, fixed stuff, changed light bulbs, bought a new, comfortable sofa, put some pictures of the two of them but not too many as to not make Strike uncomfortable, filled the fridge, cooked a few nice dinners so the entire flat would smell nice, bought new kitchen utensils, new bed sheets, new towels, new soaps, and figured Strike and her would now share his bed, which made her a bit nervous but also excited.

Knowing Strike would still be too weak to be walking around, Robin also rearranged furniture a little so it was easier for him to move around. Robin was cautious to put her stuff in the apartment while still not making it very invasive too. Now, the flat looked like an actual home, and the office had nothing to envy other offices, while still keeping its traditional vibe.

“Woah” was all Strike could say as Robin helped him into the office, while he supported on his crutches when he came from the hospital “this looks... truly nice, Robin. Good job.” He actually smiled in satisfaction, looking around “Smells good. It’s all so... just nice. Warm. Friendly.” Strike was marvelled, finding new things to stare at every time he moved his eyes. Robin smiled proudly “Oh, look at that!” Strike pointed at what Robin had called ‘the wall of success’ with all their important cases, good photos of them in the newspapers with impressive titles “aren’t we good together?” he added smug, with a chuckle.

“Oh, Mr. Strike, Ms. Ellacott, you’re finally here!” Ginny, the somewhat fatty secretary with the warmest, friendliest eyes, came out of the bathroom with a huge smile, and shook Strike’s hand “I’m your new secretary, Ginny. It’s so nice to meet you, I’ve heard so many great things!”

“This is the new secretary I told you about” Robin chimed in “her curriculum is impressive, I checked it myself. Much better than mine.” Strike raised his eyebrows in surprise but smiled politely.

“Well, nice to meet you, Ginny. Much job?”

“We have a couple new clients, but Ms. Ellacott and myself have been handling it well enough while you were in the hospital. Feeling better, sir?” Ginny asked with genuine concern.

“Yeah” Strike nodded “nice to be back. Good job Ginny.” Next, Strike was impressed with his flat. He couldn’t stop smiling happily as he sat on the sofa with his favourite beer in hand, a plate of homemade hamburgers and fried potatoes with salad in front of him, and Robin, who had eaten already, snuggled hugged to his side, already asleep. Neither of them had slept much these days, even less when Cormoran had nightmares pretty constantly “What a dream come true. Thank you.” Cormoran whispered pressing his lips against the top of Robin’s head, who rested on his shoulder.

Later that night, Strike showered and Robin and him got ready to share the bed for the first time. It was especially weird for Robin, who hadn’t slept alone since she moved out with Matthew right after university, aside from their time apart, and had never slept with another person but him.

Cormoran’s new prosthetic leg wasn’t ready yet, since the other one was broken. His pyjamas looked now so big on him after all the weight he had lost and two weeks in the hospital, just now getting back to a solid diet. Now he sat on his bed, shirt off, trying to change the bandages of her abdomen while keeping his skin from wrinkling from the posture at the same time. Just then, Robin entered the room in her pyjamas.

“Oh, sorry” Robin went to turn around to exit, blushing.

“No, don’t worry”, Strike said “I was actually...” he sighed in frustration “I can’t manage to make this work. It already hurt like hell to rip my hair off along with the old bandage... would you mind to help me?” Robin stared at him, nodding slowly. She was surprised he’d ask for help, but he truly looked defeated. Robin stood near him, also in pyjamas, and sat on the verge of the bed.

“Maybe is better if you lie down?” Robin suggested. Strike nodded, carefully going to lie down on his back, and looked expectantly at Robin. Being from the countryside, Robin had changed many bandages, since she and her brothers used to get cuts and scratches all the time pretending branches were swords, running around the fields and jumping and falling on rocks, or wrestling, or falling from the horse, etc., so she sort of knew what she was doing.

She grabbed all the utensils from the first-aid kit Robin had bought into the house before Strike arrived from the hospital, and adjusted a lamp to get better light. She observed that right below Strike’s left ribcage there was a long cut with stitches, looking a bit worse around the part where the bullet had hit and they had had to wrap the skin with more difficulty. As Strike had commented, the skin around the wound was reddish where he had basically waxed his own hair by accident, as brute as he could be.

“Does it look too bad?” Strike asked, seeing she took her time just looking at it. He felt rather vulnerable, but for some reason it didn’t make him as uncomfortable as it did with the nurses and doctors. Robin shook her head and leant to plant a kiss right near the wound, where there wasn’t Betadine, and then rubbed his hairy chest softly, looking at him with a sad smile.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t keep this from happening. I promised to get you out of there, and then...”

“And then you did” Strike finished for her. He sighed and looked around “I know you’re frustrated, it’d be too... but I know you did everything in your hands and more. And I don’t remember much of that day but when I dream with it, it feels like... like I was giving up. Like, I can almost remember thinking ‘oh great, I’m going to bleed out to death here, and no one’s ever going to find me’. I had lost hope. And then...” Strike looked at her. If he wasn’t so tired, he probably wouldn’t be so open, but again for some reason, it was Robin and with her these things weren’t that hard “Then I smelled you. I remember your voice calling my name like if it was so far away... but I know it made me stop feeling so freezing anymore. It brought back hope. What I’m saying is... you may not have strictly gotten me out of prison, but you saved my life, Robin. If you hadn’t been there... I probably wouldn’t have made it to the hospital, just like Whittaker. My mind was too foggy from the blood loss to even think anything encouraging to tell myself... but for some reason, knowing you were there with me, it was enough.” Robin smiled a little.

“You gave me the scare of my life, truth be told” she said with a sad little soft laugh, rubbing her nose, that suddenly felt a bit full. Strike smiled a little.

“I remember how that feels like” Strike commented, remembering when Robin was in the hospital too. She nodded slowly.

“Well, we’re good now” Robin said, mostly for herself “let’s get you settled down.” She carefully put another layer of Betadine with a wipe and then the bandage over it “Done. You’re all set up to sleep now.”

“Thanks” Strike smiled a little and let Robin help him to the bed better, picking up everything herself and putting all the stuff back in its cabinet. When she came back, she found Strike sitting on the bed, looking at it.

“Everything alright?”

“Are you sure?” Cormoran asked, motioning to the bed. It took her a few seconds to understand.

“Yeah” Robin nodded, leaning down to cup Cormoran’s face between her hands and kiss him slowly “I’m sure.” Cormoran hummed in approval. The two got comfortable under the duvet, Robin helping Cormoran get tucked in and then hugging him, her face against his chest, contently.

“Comfy?” Strike asked, his big arms around Robin, squeezing her close. Robin was already half asleep and hummed in approval.

“Y’know” said Robin in the darkness a while later, as Strike’s soft breathing echoed in the room “I thought it would be more awkward... but it’s as if this was meant to happen. Is like our bodies fit together. It feels so great.” Cormoran smiled in the darkness.

“I agree.” Cormoran turned around to face Robin, cupping her face with his big hands and searching for her eyes in the dark “Robin... I feel so lucky you love me.” He felt Robin’s chuckle in his hands, her big cheeks moving upwards.

“I feel so lucky to have you, Strike.” Robin still liked to call him Strike every once in a while “you’re the best man there is, did you know?”

“Really?” Cormoran asked, surprised “But I’ve got only one leg and a half.”

“Perfect.” Robin settled, going for another kiss.

***IT GETS VERY, VERY, VERY EROTIC FROM HERE TO THE END OF THE CHAPTER. PURE HEAVY PORN. JUST SAYING***

The kiss soon heated, becoming a passionate session of snogging and approbatory humming. Robin’s fingers buried in Cormoran’s dark hair, her other hand behind his neck to keep him close, and he moved his hands to her hips. Soon Cormoran was on top of her, his leg and a half at her sides, his lips kissing and sucking her neck, making her moan in the darkness. For her, sex wasn’t always so pleasurable and with Matthew, it had often been a problem, but now she felt hornier and more pleasured than ever having actual orgasms with Matthew.

“Are you sure?” Strike asked again, his breath tickling her neck. She could feel his boner against her lower abdomen “We can stop, Robin. Anytime you want, it doesn’t matter. You say stop, and I will stop and get off you, no questions asked, no judgement, okay?” Robin felt herself get emotional and kissed Comoran’s hair below her chin, an arm around his strong body, a hand playing with his earlobe lovingly.

“I’m sure sweetie. I’ve never been more ready.” Robin assured with an emotional voice.

“Are you alright?” Cormoran detected “Am I hurting you? Pressuring you?”

“No” Robin said gently “but if you don’t continue with what you were doing, I may kick your groin.” Cormoran gasped and Robin chuckled, a chuckle that soon became a long moan as Strike’s mouth found her pulse point and a hand found one of her breasts, cupping it under the tee Robin was wearing.

When Strike tried to retire Robin’s shirt, she turned the lamp on.

“I want to see this. I’ve got a feeling is going to be worth remembering.” Robin explained smug, chuckling and winking playfully, and she got rid of her shirt. Cormoran felt himself get impossibly hard after months of non-activity, seeing Robin’s rebellious red waves splashed all over the pillows, her lips red and swollen, her blue-gray eyes with the pupils big and dilated. Robin bit her lip seeing her effect on him and brought him down for a deep kiss, their tongues playing passionately. His hands moved to play with her breasts softly, pinching and twitching her nipples just enough to make it pleasurable, Robin becoming a mess of moaning under his big body.

Then, Robin pushed him to roll over, and straddled him, removing his shirt quickly. Robin looked like a hot perfect model sitting on his hard on, only separated by each other’s pants, moving over him tentatively and making him close his eyes and moan. Robin’s fingers caressed his chest, scratching it, and then kissing over the bandage that still lied over his stomach, his neck, biting his earlobe, kissing him all over the face while pressing against his boner, feeling his big size against her, and feeling herself dripping wet, his strong big hands on her hips. Then his lips found her nipples, sucking and making her moan, and Robin suddenly felt on a hurry.

She moved in 69 position, stopping to retire her pants and helping Cormoran do the same.

“Keep your legs separated please.” Robin said sensually, making Cormoran moan. She pushed his legs apart and the light hit Cormoran’s big, pretty long and tick, hard rock cock standing proudly. Robin was sure she had never seen such a big tool and for one moment she feared not being able to fit it all. She cradled his balls, nibbling them, and Cormoran moaned as he delicately stroke her inferior lips, rubbing her clit, making her moan. Cormoran kissed her entry right at the same time that Robin rubbed his dick with both of her hands, starting to suck the tip, covered in precum. He moaned loudly, moving his hip up to meet her mouth as she took more and more of him inside her mouth, unable to fit it all, but licking all over. Cormoran kept moaning, and she was practically screaming when Cormoran got his tongue inside of her, and then two fingers were working its way inside of her. Two long, thick, powerful, strong fingers, caressing her silk walls. “Oh, oh, there, oh dear yes” Robin moaned. She was conscious she yelled when she came hard, as Cormoran bit softly one of her vaginal lips, possibly trying not to cum himself, as he was so tough Robin was almost concerned he’d explode.

Robin, after she recovered from her orgasm, moved to sit on him again, this time, holding Cormoran’s cock against her opening. He felt his big size against the perfect hole, and knew he wasn’t fitting, as he could feel Robin having to shut her eyes close and actually put pressure, insisting, trying for her hole to give in and let him in.

“Let me help you.” Cormoran said, sitting up. He locked eyes with Robin, both horny as never before, and put his strong hands on her hips, not to press down on him as she expected him, as Matthew would’ve done, but to hold her so she didn’t need to put much effort to avoid sinking on him “Relax... don’t pressure yourself... There’s no need to do this.” Cormoran kissed her gently, until she forgot of everything and just felt floating, her arms over Cormoran’s shoulders as he made sure that she wouldn’t accidentally let his cock inside and hurt herself. Then he kissed and nibbled her breasts and Robin decided to press down a little and eureka! Cormoran’s fat tip made it inside and they both moaned in unison “So good” he moaned against her lips “beautiful, beautiful woman... you’re doing so well...” he kept encouraging her and soon, his whole cock had disappeared inside Robin, and when she felt his balls against her ass, she was specially loud with her moans.

She proceeded to jump on his dick, harder every time, getting almost entirely out and then sinking back in, both of them moaning loudly. Then, Cormoran rolled them over and held onto her hips as he drove himself forcefully against her, time after time, focusing on her boobs with her mouth as Robin yelled in pleasure, her face reflecting absolute bliss, drops of sweat falling down their faces...

“Fuck me from behind” Robin asked suddenly, and, without getting out of her, Cormoran helped her get in fours “now, hard!” Cormoran penetrated her time after time, the sounds of his hips slapping her gluts filling the room, his hand rubbing her clit while he kissed her back and grunted, moaned... both came loudly, and Robin felt her whole world shake. The orgasm filled her with power, with a force out of nature that she had never known, and she thought the same happened to Cormoran.

Robin wasn’t very conscious of what happened then, as Cormoran’s sperm filled her insides, but soon she found herself contently snuggled in Cormoran’s arms, and she felt she couldn’t be happier.


	11. Justice for Leda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strike fights for the truth about his mother to be made official

When Robin woke up in the morning, she was snuggled up so tight in the duvet that for one second she feared she stole it from Strike. The memories of the previous night came floating and she smiled to herself, content, still feeling her legs kind of jelly. She smelled coffee and heard the distinguishable sound of Strike walking using his crutches and grunting slightly before the bedroom door opened, pushed by one of the crutches, and he entered the room. He still had bed hair, his shirt was off, and he was wearing just some boxers. He chuckled looking at Robin, who smiled at him not bothering to cover herself much more.

“Good morning, beautiful” Strike said approaching her and sitting on the side of the bed.

“Good morning, handsome” Robin said just before accepting a kiss on the lips “did you sleep well?” she asked, a hand resting on his hairy cheek, her thumb stroking there softly.

“Better than usual” Strike answered “you?”

“Really well” Robin chuckled “so what’s that smell?” Strike scratched his hair absentmindedly.

“I was thinking of breakfast in bed, but then I couldn’t manage to safely carry it here without my leg, since I need both hands free for the crutches” he said “so... I just made the breakfast part?” Robin laughed softly.

“Well thank you, I’m sure it’s delicious” Robin squeezed his thigh softly before sitting up in bet, the duvet revealing her naked front, and she felt kind of flattered when Strike’s eyes inadvertently moved to it “like what you see?” Robin asked, posing playfully as if it was for a magazine. Strike laughed softly, embarrassed, and looked around.

“Very” he admitted, and patted her thigh “come on, I’m hungry.” Robin felt oddly touched that he hadn’t started without her.

She couldn’t help the surprised and impressed expression she got when she saw a full English breakfast on the tiny kitchen island, eggs, bacon, sausage, beans... everything, although Strike’s plate was considerably smaller. And a big mug of coffee for Robin, since Strike had it forbidden until he was fully healed.

“How did you...?” Robin said confused, looking at him from head to toe “you only have one leg! How...?” Strike smiled smug.

“How do you think I’ve managed for seven years?” Robin looked at him curious.

“Seven? That’s how long...?” Robin left the question in the air and Strike nodded, looking at the food on the kitchen island and sitting on a bench, starting to eat. Robin nodded for herself and sat next to him, eating herself.

“I was thinking of working today” Strike commented while munching some sausage “so maybe you could update me on things?”

“Maybe you should take a few days more off?” Robin asked, and Strike looked at her as if she was an alien or something, gulping “You got a hole in your stomach, Corm...”

“And I’ve been in bed two weeks. I need to move, Robin. My body needs it, to recover, and my brain needs it so I don’t die of boringness.” He said, changing his tone to a more comedic one in the end, and Robin rolled her eyes, smiling slightly at his dramatic exaggeration.

“All right, off you go then. I’ll update you, but you’re not leaving the office okay? Please. Let me do the walking all around London for a few days.” Robin pleaded, and Strike, this time, nodded.

“Yeah, better you do that. I couldn’t even hold an umbrella if it starts raining or snowing and a cold is the last thing I need right now...” Robin then had an idea, and looked at Strike, who was slowly devouring his breakfast, talking a few seconds of just contemplating his dish every now and then, as if he was making sure of whether he still felt hungry or should stop and avoid throwing up later.

“Hey... would you... I mean, Matthew was going to be my plus one, at my brother Stephen’s wedding in December” Robin said, nervous “obviously he’s not coming and I’d really love it if you’d be my plus one instead. I mean, if you feel up to it, I don’t even know if you like wed...”

“Of course” Strike smiled reassuringly “I’d love to be your plus one. It’s in Masham, right? You’ll drive us? With the Land Rover?” Robin chuckled satisfied and suddenly pretty excited for the wedding.

“Sure” Robin nodded. Maybe it was her imagination, but she thought Strike seemed particularly fond of the idea.

As the days passed by, the couple found themselves in a comfortable domestic life. Days in the office working, then maybe an occasional walk together around the city after work, so Strike would get some free air and not become a dog in a cage, snuggling in bed all through the night, watching the news together on the TV during breakfast. A couple new cases every three or four days, and a new trial as Strike’s case was reopened. Even though by then police and everyone else were sure of his innocence, and the charges had been dropped, there was still paperwork and official stuff to do. The judge had to dismiss Strike’s case and accusations and officially set him free, and they wanted to hear Strike’s version and know how in hell he got involved in such trouble and an innocent man ended up in prison, so an investigation was opened to figure out the failure in justice and prevent it from happening again. Strike was also pushing for it to become official that Whittaker killed his mother in 1994.

“So what exactly was your relationship with Switch LaVey Bloom Whittaker?” The judge asked Strike. As it wasn’t a trial itself but more like a hearing, Strike sat on a table with Ilsa in front of the Judge, who made the questions. It was a tiny room, only a few journalists and some family and friends allowed.

“He was my baby step brother” Cormoran said “son of my mother, Leda Strike, and Jeff Whittaker.”

“When was the last time you saw him?”

“When he was two and I was in my late teens. I was studying in Oxford and came home after receiving a call that my mother was dead, he had just been born when I made it into Oxford so I never really saw him much, was out all year. But then, his custody went to Sir Randolph Whittaker, his great, grandfather, not to me, because I wasn’t twenty one yet, and Jeff had an extensive criminal record and was also accused of my mother’s death, so he couldn’t have the custody. I thought he was better off that way, left to the army, and never contacted my brother again, or was contacted by him, or new anything about him.” Strike explained.

“No pictures, no Christmas cards...?” Strike hid a chuckle, feeling like he was being told a joke, and Robin, noticing, rolled her eyes.

“Your honour, that boy was hardly my step brother. He didn’t remember nor knew nothing about me and there was no one in his life to tell him about his mother or me or our sister, Lucy, so there was no reason why he’d want to contact us. He probably thought we abandoned him with his old great grandparents or something, who knows. I honestly tended to forget his existence, our step sister is the only one of my many step siblings, that I was raised with, close to, and in contact with.” Strike shrugged and the judge nodded.

“How come you never suspected Davenport was in reality your brother working for you?”

“I investigated him, checked his info, everything” Strike said “but he was an expert on software and Photoshop, he created entire websites backing him up. I never saw it coming. He was even pretending to be twenty four, when in reality, he was only nineteen years old.”

“Back in the day you accused Jeff Whittaker of murdering your mother, and were convinced of it. Defended it in a trial, but Whittaker wasn’t declared guilty, although I can imagine he’d held grudges for that. Did he ever contact you again?”

“We went separate lives” Strike said “I left for Afghanistan immediately after, I was in the Royal Military Police Special Investigations branch. Served for ten years so, I was out of his reach if he’d want to contact me, and I never tried. Then when I came back... nothing. But a few months ago” he recalled “I was after Whittaker. I thought he killed a woman whose leg was sent to my partner at work. There were many things about the case that made me suspect of Whittaker, so I wanted to just check on him, value if he could’ve really done it. I saw him being aggressive with Stephanie, a girl he was dating, and when I feared for her life, I intervened and punched him. But I couldn’t get Stephanie to leave him. Then a while later, my partner had an encounter with Stephanie and Whittaker, but nothing happened, my partner just showed concern for injuries Stephanie had. That was all.”

“So you’re saying Whittaker and you had a tense relationship, prone to get aggressive if you got together.”

“Yes.” Strike conceded “But for some reason, we winded up in the same prison, where we once had a fight.”

“Did your partner and him ever had contact again?”

“No.” Strike said firmly “I stopped suspecting of him and the line of investigation when towards a Laing, who was found guilty or murder, so Whittaker had nothing to do with it.”

“What happened on the night of November 6th and morning of the 7th, mister Strike?” the judge asked then.

“I was asleep in my cell. Then I heard a commotion, a really big one. I got up, and my cellmate and I saw the doors of the cells were opening as the alarm sounded” Strike recalled. Robin sat straighter on her chair, attention set on him. Lucy, next to her, imitated her “my cellmate immediately ran out, and I tentatively walked to the door. The cells of my floor were in a thin corridor-balcony that lead to an inside patio, so from there I could see there was chaos all over. Armed inmates attacking the guards, sirens sounding and complete chaos. I went to help a guard that was being punched by an inmate close by, but then I noticed a gun pressed against my back and Whittaker indicated me to go with him. There were other inmates helping him so I didn’t try to resist, had nowhere to go. Then, he led me to a police truck outside the prison, where his son was waiting. That’s when I found out Davenport was Switch.”

“And then?”

“Then I don’t know. I was injected some drug on the neck, fell asleep. When I woke up I was already in the industrial unit. Whittaker and son came and they explained me their whole plan, just as I described to the police, you’ve got it there. I was handcuffed. Whittaker took his son out for a moment, said they had some last minute things to sort out, and I heard gunshots outside, then Jeff Whittaker came in, he had blood on top, and I knew his son was dead. Whittaker was smiling, said he couldn’t trust someone who had already murdered twice and was so smart.” Strike explained calmly, remembering it as if it was the day before “He said he’d kill me next, but that he wanted me to put up a fight, to do it with his own hands, so he put the gun aside and freed me. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction nor have police come as I figured they’d do anytime, since I knew those trucks are tracked, and think I was trying to kill him and accuse me of that, so I let him hit me and I only moved to defend myself... and then he said... he confessed to have murdered my mother in 1994. It made me angry and suddenly I wasn’t willing to let him punch me to death. So I fought hard and at some point, I got shot. I went unconscious, but Whittaker was already badly injured so I’m not surprised he went unconscious too. Next I knew I was in the hospital.”

There was a moment of silence, the whole room quiet and just looking at them, before the judge spoke again, straightening in their chair.

“Did you want to kill him and revenge your mother?” Strike shook his head.

“No. I wanted him to pay, spend the rest of his miserable life in prison the same way my step sister Lucy and I are forced to spend the rest of our lives motherless.” Strike said, his voice deep with emotion, but Robin could tell it was mostly anger, frustration and powerlessly than sadness “I punched him because I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of killing Leda’s son too, and I was angry enough with the confession to not care if police caught me and sent me to prison again. I wasn’t going to let him kill both of Leda’s sons in one sitting and get away with it. Plus, having him confess of having murdered two people and collaborate on the death of Heifsner made me realise how real the danger was and how important it was for me to punch back.”

“Why didn’t you care about that before? Why were you willing before to let him kill you?”

“I did care. I just was more worried about being accused of murder again than anything else, so I only focused on stopping or avoiding his hits rather than hitting back.”

“Do you think he really killed Leda or that he said it so you’d get angry?” the jury asked.

“I’m sure he killed her.” Strike said “I know is my word against a dead man’s, but is also a dead man who’s been proved guilty of killing his own son. And I lived with him, I knew him... I know he only cared about the billions of pounds he thought, falsely, that my mother had, not about her. And he hated anyone who’d drawn my mother’s attention for him, which is why my sister and I were never safe in his presence. I always said he killed her, and no one ever believed me aside from my family and friends.”

“Well, based on the objective evidence and the police investigation...” the judge said “I hereby declare Mr. Cormoran Blue Strike free of all charges and demand for his record to be cleaned up. In the name of England’s judicial powers, I apologize for your unfair imprisonment, sir.” The judge hit the maze “The hearing’s concluded, you may all leave.”

“What about my mother, your honour?” Strike asked hopefully, standing up “He killed her, he confessed. It would mean a lot to my family if it was made official, even if he can no longer pay for it. We’d like for the truth to be made public.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Strike” the judge said “but the only proof that he confessed is your word, which isn’t a very trustworthy source of information in this case scenario about this particular matter, since you’re too personally and emotionally involved. And Whittaker might’ve lied to you. So the official version will still be that Leda Strike killed herself...”

“But she didn’t!” the room paralysed, hearing Strike’s growl “she didn’t do drugs anymore. She was a loving, caring mother, who wished the best for her three children, who was done with drugs and was trying to build a respectable life, get her family off the ground, provide for her family... she would’ve never...”

“Mr. Strike” the judge sounded firmer “I understand your point of view, but there was an official investigation and her suicide was proven, even though I understand your reticence to believe...”

“Because I knew her!” Strike said “No investigation is going to tell me who my mother was! There was an investigation who supposedly proved me guilty of murder, there was an investigation who supposedly proved Lula Landry’s suicide, and they were all wrong!”

“Calm down!” the judge was now mad “I see your point and there’s nothing I can...”

“Reopen her investigation! Check again!” Strike demanded. He seemed to realise he was losing it and getting nowhere, and he cleared his throat, and proceeded calmly “Please, your honour. You’ve seen yourself how sometimes justice fails, investigations can be wrong. You have reasonable proof to believe there might’ve been failures in the investigation of my mother. Don’t let a woman be talked about publicly as a bad careless mother who was stupid enough to overdose, as the media puts it. She deserves better.” His voice shook and he looked down, not wanting for anyone to see his watery eyes “You could reopen the investigation, or start a new one, and maybe a killer won’t get out with this... you’re the only one who can. I sure... there’s nothing more I can do. Please.”

“Mr. Strike, believe me I’d love to help, but I can’t...”

“There are children” Strike rose his voice, staring angrily at the woman “grandsons of Leda Strike, who go to school every day and whose classmates mess with them calling their grandmother a druggie, an addict, a loser. There’s a good woman about whom a lot of people very publicly say big shit of. And there’s a dead man, who was the damn evil, who hurt many women and killed his own son, who’s gotten away with it all, no punishment. I hope you can sleep calm at night tonight with those facts in your brain, because I can’t and I haven’t had a proper night of rest in eighteen years, I live every single day knowing I let the guy who tormented my family, causing my sister to move out, my mother’s murder, get away with it. You live yours knowing you’re part of the reason why true justice will never happen to any of us. You’re as guilty as the judge that let him get away in 1994, and if he hadn’t, if Whittaker had gone to prison then, for life, none of this would’ve happened.” That said, Strike turned around, and left as fast as his leg, that he had recently gotten back, allowed him, which was enough, as the room was in too much of a commotion to react until he was long gone.


	12. Romantic dates

“I’m worried about him” Robin said. They were having lunch in one of Strike’s favourite places, Nick invited, to celebrate Strike’s official freedom. They hadn’t been able to locate Strike after the hearing, and he wasn’t picking up his phone.

“He’s dealing with things his own way” Ilsa said, checking her phone just in case he had called “he’s a very private person, you know that. He’ll come back, pretend that nothing happened.”

“There he is” Nick said cheerfully, and effectively, Strike was just slumping his way through the tables towards them “hi Corm! Want a pint?”

“Sure, thanks” Strike let himself fall on the chair they were reserving for him.

“Hi” Robin kissed him on the cheek and held his hand under the table “you okay?”

“I’m good” Strike assured.

Through the entire lunch, Robin observed Strike carefully, trying not to be too obvious, until it was time for them to go back to work. Robin went on street duty and Strike stayed at the office. When Robin finished the office was already closed, the light off, and she went up to the flat, where she found Strike sitting on the sofa, his prosthetic oddly still on, a beer in his hand and football in the TV.

“You’re back” Strike said, his eyes sparkling when she came into view, removing her coat “took a long time, did it go well?”

“Yeah, it’s just” Robin took another beer for herself and fell on the sofa, accepting Strike’s lips on her momentarily “following him took me all the way to Canary, then the metro was full, took me a long time to come back.”

“Oh” Strike nodded.

“But he’s not cheating on her, she’s paranoid. He’s just going to work, meeting friends, buying the newspaper, walking around.” Robin explained.

Strike nodded and squeezed her hand. Then, after a few seconds, he looked at her.

“Hey Robin” the redheaded looked up to him questioningly “I missed your birthday, I was unconscious in the hospital...”

“Right, but your present was awesome” Robin chuckled holding her pendant in her necklace. Strike’s lips curved into a tiny smile.

“I was thinking... I could take you on a dinner date?” Strike suggested, nervously “you know, our first date and also birthday celebration?”

“Oh, Corm” Robin was in awe, caressing his cheek “sure, that’ll be fun. Thanks.”

“Good, good” Strike was still nervous, and scratched his head “then I was thinking, we should save some money, you know, for the wedding, right? We’ll need suit and dress and some nice gift for Stephen, and plus there’s Christmas... I didn’t think I could afford taking you to some nice restaurant the way Matthew would do.” He blushed hard at this and Robin frowned.

“You don’t have to. Corm, Matthew needed to do that effort to keep me with him, believe me” Robin pulled his face to look at her “you don’t. You make me the best gifts just with being here, with me.” Strike bit his lip, nervously, and nodded.

“Well, happy to hear. But still, I wanted to do something nice for you so... I hope you like it. Come...” Strike got up and pulled from Robin by her hand, delicately. Robin followed him curiously to the kitchen, and saw that, in the little kitchen island the attic had, Strike had set some candles, prepared Robin’s favourite dinner, and had even bought a box of Robin’s favourite chocolates and favourite wine. There were also flowers on a vase.

Robin stood there, impressed, as Strike moved to light the candles on and also the little light bulbs below the wall closets over the counter, and then turn the ceiling light off to create a dimly light atmosphere. Robin had her hands on her mouth and looked at Strike, grinning.

“This is perfect. Thank you.”  Robin said.

“Happy twenty-seventh birthday, Robin.” Cormoran said, giving her a cup of wine and serving himself another one “Cheers!”

“Cheers” Robin smiled drinking from it.

They had a romantic dinner, occasionally stopping to have a kiss or two, and Robin felt herself fall more and more in love with him every passing second.

“Wait, there’s something more.” Cormoran went to the fridge and pulled out a British pie, Robin’s favourite, with a candle that he quickly light on before giving it to Robin. “Is not much but...”

“Bugger, Corm” Robin was on the verge of tears, so touched “this is perfect. This is... you’re the best, you know it right?”

“I try. You deserve all I can provide and more” Cormoran said, his eyes fixed on Robin’s. Robin gulped a sob and leant to kiss him, trying to muster all she felt for him. He enthusiastically kissed her back for a few seconds “Go, blow the candle. Don’t forget to make a wish.”

“I already have all I want” Robin replied with a chuckle, and blew the candle.

“There’s something important I wanted to ask you.” Strike commented after a while as Robin cut the pie and gave him a piece.

“Anything.”

“Will you be officially my girlfriend?” Strike shot. Robin almost dropped the knife and looked at him, a smile forming slowly in her face.

“Seriously?” Strike chuckled and nodded, making her grin.

“Damn yes!” Robin threw herself in his arms and he laughed softly as they kissed passionately.

That night, they made love. However, it was Sunday the next day and Robin wasn’t willing to let Strike work on a Sunday, it was a new policy she was forcing on him. He needed a day off. And she knew exactly what they were going to do.

“Are you ever going to tell me where we’re going?” Strike asked, as Robin pulled from his hand into St. James’ Park, a bag hanging from her back “What are we doing here Robin?”

“Come on, Mr. Interrogation. It’s a romantic picnic!” Robin said enthusiastically “I’m calling second date.”

“Robin” Strike said with a tiny smile he tried to hide to look serious “you do realise I lack half a leg, right? The ground and I - we aren’t best friends.”

“I’ll help you sit down and get up. I brought cushions and beer.” Robin informed him, and he raised his eyebrows in surprise, with a satisfied expression.

“So that’s what the big backpack is for?” Robin nodded.

“Here” Robin pointed to a spot between some flowers, in front of The Serpentine, where some ducks were chilling out. She opened her backpack and Strike couldn’t help but be amazed at the amount of things Robin had managed to stick in there. A blanket came out, cushions, a portable fridge-bag only big enough for a couple bottles, plastic glasses and a basket that smelled of hamburgers, along with a bag of chips.

“Ah, this is my kind of picnic.” Strike was more satisfied by the second, and quickly helped Robin settle everything and snuggled with her on top of the blanket, being fast to get a beer from the fridge-bag. Robin laughed softly at him.

“You’re so easy to content.”

Once she had bribed Strike properly and he was lying down looking at the clouds with her, their stomachs full and their spirits happy and calm, Robin knew it was the right time. She stared at him with a hand drawing patterns on his chest, softly.

“Corm” she said, seeing how his dark blue eyes moved to fix on her right away. She looked serious, and he frowned “what happened yesterday?” Strike sighed.

“You saw what happened.”

“I know but... I understand that it must’ve affected you a lot. And... well, I’m here if you want to talk.”

“Thanks Robin” Strike said “I’m good.” Robin rolled her eyes, exasperated, and Strike looked back to the clouds.

“I hear you at night. Murmuring things, tossing and turning in bed. You barely rest. You drink five coffees a day, which isn’t too good for your stomach, by the way”, Robin pressured “I know you’re struggling. The man who murdered your mother got away with it and now he’s dead and won’t ever be punished, and you had to go through hell, then go through the incredible trauma of losing a leg, then be imprisoned for murder, see your little brother die and almost die yourself. It’s been a lot. It’s normal to be struggling.”

“I’m okay Robin” Strike insisted calmly “that was all a long time ago and what happened with Whittaker these months is nothing compared to ten years in Afghanistan. It’s not as traumatic for me as for maybe, the average person. And I already dealt with Afghanistan’s traumas back in the day, so I’m all well.”

“Okay” Robin sighed “then why can’t you rest?”

“I’ve never been a good sleeper” Strike shrugged “I’m sorry if it bothers you.”

“It doesn’t bother me, I barely wake up to notice but...” Robin rolled to be on top of him, getting his attention “I worry for you, Corm. I care for you, I love you. And I’d like to help you.”

“Robin, you don’t know how much you help me just by existing” Strike said honestly, stroking locks of red hair with one hand “you mean so much to me, okay? I’m just... not the kind of person to go around talking about things. But I know you’re there for me and I’m thankful for it.” Robin nodded slowly, and leant forward to kiss him and then snuggle against his neck. It was her favourite spot to press her face in.

“My mother would’ve liked you a lot, Robin.” Strike whispered suddenly, when Robin thought the conversation was over.

“I would’ve liked her a lot too, Corm. I’m sure she was an extraordinary woman.” Robin said sincerely.

“How are you so sure?” Strike asked. Robin pushed herself up to look at him.

“Because she must’ve been damn incredible to raise you all alone to be the outstanding man that you are.” Strike looked at her for a few seconds without blinking “Corm... you’re more like her than you think. I see her in you.” Robin smiled kindly caressing his cheek. Strike, although touched, got a sudden need to make things less emotive.

“So are you saying you’re actually lesbian then?”

The playful light slap that he got in exchange didn’t stop making him think the joke was worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 44 chapters written so far :)


	13. Leda's Anniversary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A sad but sweet one. Please review! Oh, and I have 47 chapters written at the moment :)

Tuesday, November 20th 2011, was a rainy day. Robin yawned as she looked at the storm falling against the glass. She had just woken up, a bit late for the usual, and hadn’t seen Strike in bed. She just felt quite tired these days, probably because of the weather. She drank a tea Strike had left ready for her, got dressed, and went downstairs, frowning when she didn’t see Ginny. She made her way into the office and saw Strike with the window slightly opened, smoking, his eyes lost in the horizon. When he saw her, he quickly turned the cigarette off and Robin, to whom he had promise to quit smoking, pretended not to see.

“Morning” said Strike.

“Hi” Robin kissed him “shouldn’t Ginny be here already?” she added, checking her watch.

“I called her and told her to take the day off” Strike said “didn’t think it was safe for her to come with this storm. Besides, clients don’t usually come running when the weather gets like this.” Robin nodded.

“You’re right. Any news on Mr. Potato and Tick Tack?” She asked about two of their clients.

“Closed the case of Mr. Potato, already sent him our receipt. And will go find Tick Tack later, if the weather gets better.” As he spoke, Robin was organising some paperwork on her desk, and there was something that she couldn’t quite pinpoint about Strike’s voice that made her turn around and look at him attentively, observing his behaviour with a light frown. He was wearing a light blue shirt that went with his eyes and a brown jumper, and was currently organising his drawers a little bit, two cigarettes turned off on a little ashtray by the corner on his desk. She didn’t remember the last time she had seen him smoke, but probably way before he got arrested. He had lost twenty pounds and his now thinner face was covered in a thick beard, little bags under his eyes.

“Is everything okay?” Robin asked cautiously. Strike hummed, nodding, and Robin bit her lip before going to Google in her phone, following her gut, she typed ‘Leda Strike’. She went to her Wikipedia and bingo. Today was her seventeenth death anniversary “Oh, Corm...”

“What?” he grumbled, lifting a heavy box of paperwork to a bookshelf.

“Today’s her anniversary, right?” Robin said, hugging him from behind.

“So?” Strike asked, not giving it much importance “years pass by.”

“Corm” Robin said stern, forcing him to look at her “you don’t have to pretend it doesn’t hurt, you know? Because it’s stupid. I know you. You can’t hide away from me and I know, no matter if its four, eighteen, or sixty years, it will always hurt. And I can’t comfort you if you don’t let me.” Strike sighed, and hugged her tightly. Robin hugged him back, letting him use her for support, both physical and emotional. Her chin didn’t reach his shoulder, but she wrapped her arms tightly around his broad back.

“I miss her, Robin.” Strike whispered, his voice sounded broken. He was holding on to her strongly and tightly.

“That’s okay... I bet she misses you too.” Robin whispered caringly, closing her eyes and rubbing Strike’s back softly as she felt him shake in muffled sobs.

“I should’ve stayed with her. I shouldn’t have her alone with that... that monster...” he cried angrily “if I had been there... he wouldn’t have touched her, Robin... I would’ve killed him before he set a hand on my mother.... and now he’s never going to pay for it, and she’ll be known as an addict and a druggie forever!” he could no longer keep his shit together, as much as he tried to keep things in as always and hold himself up. He inevitably started sobbing uncontrollably, crying loudly and freely over Robin’s shoulder. A couple tears escaped Robin’s eyes and she shut her eyes tightly, sniffling and biting her lip. She hated Whittaker. She hated him with all of her soul. And she hated the judges and the juries who had let it all happened and abandoned the Strike family.

Robin didn’t want to say anything, afraid that it would make Strike react and close himself up again, since as far as she knew that was probably the first time he ever cried in front of someone. Maybe even the first time he truly got it all out since his mother’s death. So she squeezed him as tighter as she could, feeling him do the same, and stood there for all the time it took for Strike to, heartbreakingly, cry and growl in anger, frustration and sadness, his fists shut tight against her back, until he truly had everything out and stopped crying, the energy completely drained out of him.

Then she walked him to the sofa in the adjacent room and sat him with a mug of tea. She put a blanket over them both, and snuggled with him, letting him abandon half the tea and bury into her arms, searching for some kind of feminine comfort, maybe a mixture between motherly and romantic, his beard tickling her neck.

“I swear I’m never going to let anything happen to any of you again, okay?” Robin said softly after a while, her cheek against his hair, her hands rubbing his back over the blanket “You’re my family. You’ll never be alone again and no one will ever hurt you again.”

That night, Robin took him and Lucy out to the Tottenham pub Strike liked, and didn’t stop until both siblings were drunk like they’ve never been, half crying half laughing as they opened up to each other, and hugged each other, comforting.

            Just three days later, Robin organised a birthday party for Cormoran. By then, the couple had had over fifteen dates. Some were very simple: the one who made it to the attic first would get the other a hot shower ready, make dinner, and make the other a lingering massage in bed before sleeping. Others were as complex as organised weekends out of city, restaurant reservations, movie night, boat adventures in the snowed Thames, or trips to an amusement park. For them, what mattered was the smallest of details, and they didn’t need huge things. Every now and then, one would have a small gesture, and call it a date, giving some little gift, adding a back rub, and some lingering kissing.

            On Strike’s birthday, there was a blizzard outside so Robin made the party simple. She cleaned the attic while Strike was at work, claiming that she was going upstairs to call her mother -those calls always took the longest time- and then prepared a nice dinner, setting their brand new dining table with a nice tablecloth, fine wine, and their prettiest plates and napkins.

            Lucy and Greg came with the children, that Robin was attempting to get Strike to be close with through frequent organised-behind-his-back encounters, since she knew he kind of liked them and just needed some time with them. Besides, Strike needed family laces, he couldn’t be a stranger forever and to be sincere, he didn’t seem to mind much. He also looked happier and even cheerful since they became official couple, which made Robin beam with pride. Ilsa and Nick came around too, and although Ginny and her husband Richard couldn’t make it, they also had invited a couple that were Robin’s closest friends in London and that Strike got along fairly well with since they had started to do double dates, an invention Strike had taken a long time to like, but that, when he discovered Robin’s friend adored the same sports teams as Strike, ended up being one of Strike’s favourite activities. Plus, they were really good to Robin and hated Matthew as much as Strike. That’s how in the attic they ended up getting together Greg and Lucy with their sons Arthur, who was ten, Jack, who was nine and worshipped Strike, and Harvey, who was only six; Nick and Ilsa; and Claire and Fred and their son Alfred, who was eight.

            Strike, Nick, Fred and Greg and tired the children out while the women were catching up and drinking the first cups of wine, and by the time dinner came the kids barely had time to eat before they passed out and their parents accommodated them on Strike and Robin’s big bed. That as a novelty for Strike - having people come over, and even more, for dinner. At first it seemed quite foreign but it was obvious Robin was a pro at it, and he ended up quite fond of it. Robin was introducing him to a life he didn’t know he needed. It wasn’t like the boring dinners with Charlotte’s friends, or the expensive dates with her, it was something else and way more meaningful. It was the way Robin laughed with his friends hearing his embarrassing stories, the way she’d notice and fix the holes in his jumpers or get him new ones when she noticed he was short on them, the way Robin’s friends treated him like a brother and how his nephews suddenly seemed so easy to manage and seemed to adore him. It was the tea he often found on his nightstand with a sweet note from Robin as she was in the shower or already at work, or how she left the last beer for him always and taught him some fancy dishes in their Sundays off that became food fights. He found out that, even though he somewhat enjoyed his life, Robin brought a kind of light that made his life more enjoyable, filling it with things he didn’t know he needed but that now, he’d miss if they weren’t there. And her love for socialising with his people, and the adoration his people felt for her, added happiness into his life and forced him to grow closer, tighter relationships with his family and friends, that he didn’t know was wishing to have.

            “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you play with them before” Lucy said over her third cup of wine, leaning back in her chair as Strike came back from checking on the kids in his shared bedroom, making his way to the dining table illuminated by dimly light. Robin had made a point on buying a heater and the attic was now warm and cosy “Jack stole your red military beanie, by the way. I don’t know how he found it, but he barely takes it off now.”

            “He didn’t steal anything, it was a gift for his birthday” Strike commented nonchalantly. His nephew’s birthday was just a couple weeks before his own.

            “Really?” Lucy was surprised.

            “Well, if I was going to go to his party, I couldn’t go empty handed. And Robin made a point to remind me how much he liked that damn beanie, that I have no affection for and was just grabbing dust in a drawer here.”

            “Oh...” Lucy shot Robin a glance of admiration and gratefulness “I really like you, Robin.” Robin laughed lightly.

            “They’re good boys.” Robin shrugged it off “They deserve a good uncle as much as he deserves a good relationship with his nephews.” She added, elbowing Strike playfully.

            “Children are great” Claire commented “I’m glad it didn’t happen with Matthew though, I wouldn’t have been able to stand it if they inherited his ego and sense of superiority.”

            “Well, it certainly wasn’t because he didn’t want to” Robin commented.

            “What do you mean?” Strike asked curiously. Before dating Robin, he had never quite meddled in her life and now he found himself wanting to know every little detail of her “Don’t you want kids?”

            “I do” Robin left her cup of wine on the table “Matthew just wanted everything. He wanted me to earn enough money for us to have a nice house and an Audi, and at the same time, he wanted for me to drop everything and bear his children, stay at home cooking and cleaning, and still be able to bring a good salary home, somehow. And I wasn’t sure I was ready to have kids under those circumstances and while we had just gotten married. Two days, that’s what he needed to suggest stop using birth control. Ass.” Strike chuckled loving how free Robin got in her use of words when she was slightly tipsy.

            “For the way you talk about him” Nick commented “why did you even marry him?”

            “Well, you know” Robin shrugged “he was all I knew. Most handsome boy in class, always, and according to all the fairy tales I had been taught, he was who I was supposed to marry. At last I realised I’d rather marry a man than some boy.” She added kissing Strike on the cheek, to what he blushed. What was that supposed to mean? They had barely been together for four days, officially, and a bit more than a month unofficially, did she want to marry him?

            “Talking about despicable exes” Lucy commented “I ran onto Charlotte this morning at the supermarket. She seemed healthier than I’ve ever seen her, mentally I mean. Told me she got a new job, that she was doing really well, bought an apartment, is having therapy. She also told me she saw about you on the news and was worried about you, told me to send you her best wishes. I’ve never seen her so... nice, really.”

            “Oh” Strike was surprised, but found that the most surprising thing was his lack of interest in Charlotte “did you tell her I’m taken?”

            “Oh yeah, told her you’re doing well, that you’re dating one hell of a woman. And she seemed genuinely happy about it. She was also very glad to hear things turned out okay, and even happy Whittaker died. And she seemed honest.”

            “She’s a compulsive liar, Lucy, don’t get too excited. Plus she’s kind of bipolar, today she’s all nice and tomorrow, a bat shit crazy bitch.” Cormoran said. Robin was just happy Lucy had such a good opinion of her.

            “Excuse me” Fred started with his thick accent from Liverpool “but who’s Charlotte?”

            “She’s my crazy ex girlfriend, almost wife” Strike answered drinking a sip of beer finding it not so hard anymore to talk about his life “we dated for a few years, then I dumped her because she was absolutely nuts and tried to keep me with her by threatening with killing herself if I didn’t or saying she was pregnant with my child when she wasn’t. She’s a compulsive liar, manipulative, untrustworthy, dishonest, fragile, unstable, depressed woman with inferiority issues and a need to control and own men that seem knights of shining armour to her.” Fred whistled impressed.

            “What a character” Fred said “God, lying about pregnancy? That’s falling really low. How did you know she was lying?”

            “Took me a while, but eventually it became obvious.” Strike answered, shrugging “And that was the last straw. I was furious at her, packed my things and came to live in my office until I had the money for this attic. Of course she begged and begged... but I was done.”

            “Do we get some prize for toxic relationships?” Robin joked with the dark humour Strike adored, and he laughed, making her chuckle.

            “Man, I wish.”

            The friends were in the middle of desert when Ilsa and Nick, that had been whispering stuff for a while, called their attention by slightly hitting their cups with cutlery. Strike and Robin both looked up at them, stopping from eating the birthday cake Robin had bought.

            “We have some news” Nick announced happily.

            “I’m pregnant!” Ilsa yelled happily. Robin yelled in excitement and covered her mouth immediately before she awoke the boys, and Strike grinned. After a round of congratulations, Ilsa was showing off her belly, pulling from her thick jumper that hid it. They had been trying for the longest time.

            “We didn’t want to say anything until the chances of losing it were at the lowest” Nick commented.

            “I’m five months already!” Ilsa added excitedly, unable to keep herself together.

            “Woah” Strike was impressed at their ability to hide it without him noticing, being a private investigator. Although Ilsa had a prominent five months belly, the cold times had made it quite easy for Ilsa to hide it with big jumpers and jackets. Strike was even more impressed to know Ilsa had so strongly defended him in trial without throwing up or getting hormonal and while being so pregnant “I’m impressed, you did so well in my trials while this pregnant?”

            “Never underestimate women, Corm” Ilsa grinned.

            “So do you know the gender already?” Robin asked. She really liked babies.

            “A girl” Ilsa and Nick said at once, both looking at bliss.

            “Congrats guys. You deserve it the most.” Strike said truly happy for them.

            “Aw, a little girl, so cute!” Claire beamed “we want to have one too someday, but we haven’t had the chance yet.”

            “We feel so lucky” Nick said “We’ve been trying for years and just when we relaxed and accepted that it wasn’t happening... we got the news!”

            “A very healthy little girl” Ilsa pulled her walled from her jacket and showed everyone a photo of the latest ultrasound. Strike could barely distinguish anything there, but he showed his excitement anyway “we were actually wondering” Ilsa added, looking at Nick, who nodded in encouragement “if Robin and you would be her godparents.” She said looking straight at Strike.

            “Yeah, since you’re finally decent with children.” Nick joked with a smirk.

            “It will be an honour.” Strike accepted. That was one godchild he could be happy about. His first goddaughter.

            “Oh my god Corm!” Robin was on the verge of tears “This is amazing! I’m so going to spoil this girl...”

            Strike didn’t get anything else, too caught up in how emotional Robin had suddenly gotten, grinning and grabbing Ilsa’s hand, beaming at the picture and asking about possible baby names.


	14. Do you want children?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluffy couple time and a nice old cliffhanger ;)

Their friends had just left and Robin and Strike were washing the dishes together.

“Why don’t you sit down?” Robin said “I can finish and your leg must be throbbing.”

“Thank you.” Strike kissed her on the head before sitting on a stool near her, sighing in relief. Looking at Robin, her long red hair falling on her back, the blue dress that hugged her curves so perfectly, her long legs inside the gray woollen tights, her big cheeks flushed from the alcohol, he thought he was looking at the most beautiful being on Earth and found himself beaming for her “Hey Robin... would you like to have children one day?”

Robin looked at him briefly before nodding.

“It would be nice. When the time’s right.”

“I think you’d be an awesome mother.” Strike said without thinking, making Robin chuckle and look at him again.

“What about you?” she asked curiously. Strike shrugged.

“I’ve never dreamed of fatherhood, and you know children didn’t make me quite excited before you taught me to connect with them” Strike said “but I was thinking... it would be nice to have mini yous around the attic.” Robin stopped scrubbing the dishes and turned around to face him, expectant and surprised. Strike scratched his beard nervously “I guess that, what I’m trying to say is... parenthood would be exciting as long as you were my partner in that adventure too.” Slowly, a huge grin crept its way into Robin’s face, and the redhead sat on his knees, putting her arms around his neck and bringing him in for a deep, long kiss.

“Maybe we’re going to fast but...” Robin commented when she finally pulled apart “I think we were drawn together, Corm.”

“I think so too.” Cormoran replied, his eyes fixed on her lips, before going for another kiss.

**. . .**

That night, when Strike woke unexpectedly, he noticed Robin’s nude back against his nude chest, her breathing deep and slow, her hair splashed over the pillows. He had one of his strong arms over her hips, and she had put an arm over his, interlacing his fingers, that stayed connected as they slept like if they were drawn together with magnets. In that moment, Strike allowed himself to imagine a life with Robin, kids walking around, a big house with a big garden in the outsides of London, maybe in the countryside, breakfast in bed and bathtub dates, because they’d have a tub then. Big cheeks in little faces, eyes of different light tones, dark curls falling framing those faces perfectly.

Strike moved to press Robin tighter against him, and she grunted and rolled over into his chest and waiting arms, looking for refugee in his arms, her nose pressed to his neck. He hugged her close and waited until her breathing steadied again before kissing her on the forehead.

“I love you, baby.” He whispered.

**. . .**

A few days later, early in December, Strike and Robin closed the office for the holidays and took the train to Masham, North Yorkshire, to assist to Stephen’s wedding and spend Christmas there, with white holidays, covered in thick snow and cold as hell, as Strike pointed out the first time they tried to have shower sex, that ended up becoming warm bathtub sex.

“Uhm, I needed this” Robin said afterwards, sitting on him, his strong arms around her as he left a trail of kisses on her neck, over the zone where he had had to bite hard so the whole family wouldn’t hear them, as he pressed a hand to Robin’s mouth. The water was still reasonable warm.

“Your family is pretty nice” Strike commented casually, hugging her close “your mom gave me shoulder rub today while you went shopping with Martin, because she noticed my muscles were too tight.”

“You do have tight shoulders” Robin commented, her eyes closed as she moved a hand to caress Strike’s shoulders and neck. Strike saw her face so blushed, with the lips red and swollen, and couldn’t help but kiss her deeply, making her moan “Mm... I love tub dates...we need a tub Corm...” she said when they pulled apart, caressing his chin. He chuckled.

“We do.” Strike kissed her shoulder “Come on girl, let’s go get snuggled up in bed.”

Once in bed, they fell asleep quickly. Robin woke up in the middle of the night and frowned, opening her eyes and trying to find the cause of her rouse. Strike slept peacefully under her, and then suddenly she felt it. Dinner needed to go. She ran to the bathroom adjacent to her bedroom right in time to puke her guts down the WC and instantly, she felt well.

“What the...” Robin sighed, washing her teeth and tiredly walking back to the bedroom. She took a few seconds to just stand and contemplate her boyfriend’s peaceful slumber, smiling to herself, but the calmness lasted little. Soon she noticed Strike was starting to grunt, frown, and then he seemed in pain, grunting and tossing “Corm” Robin frowned, rushing to him and sitting on the mattress next to him, rubbing his shoulder “Corm, wake up sweetie. It’s just a nightmare.”

“Phantom pain” Strike managed to say between grunts. He was in terrible pain, but trying not to yell so he wouldn’t wake the whole house up. Robin moved quickly uncovering his stump and massaging it softly.

“Better?” Robin asked.

“Not there!” Strike grumbled, pressing a hand against his abdomen. Then Robin understood. Strike was feeling himself getting shot all over again. She pulled his shirt up, moving his arms aside, and turned the lamp on. Strike had gotten all pale and had his eyes screwed shut in pain.

“Open your eyes” Robin demanded “come on, look! There’s nothing here. No wound.” Robin forced him to look at the palm long scar on the left side of his abdomen, skin that was now fully healed. Robin brought his hands to the scar so he’d feel the pain wasn’t real because the injury wasn’t there anymore “Is not real... is not real...” Strike’s breathing relaxed and evened, and he was soon relaxed again, getting comfortable again in bed. Robin turned the light off and snuggled against him.

“I’m sorry” Strike whispered suddenly “you must think I’m so fucked up...”

“Sh...” Robin put a hand on his mouth and kissed his cheek “you’re perfect, don’t be ridiculous. The fact that your mind is a little troubled is the only thing keeping me from thinking you’re an actual alien, some superior humanoid race that’s flawless.” It was so ridiculous Strike had to laugh, and soon, they both laughed their way back to Morfeo’s arms.

The next day was Stephen’s wedding. Robin cried the entire ceremony, as Strike held her. The ceremony took place in Masham’s church, that was filled with flowers. Robin was one of the maids of honour and Stephen’s little brothers, his best men. It was a really nice wedding. Next to the ceremony, there was a reception at a local. Strike was just talking with Robin’s brothers when she went to find him.

“Mind if I borrow him for a moment?” Robin asked her brothers.

“Ah, as long as you’re quiet...” Martin said. Robin rolled her eyes as the brothers laughed and took Strike’s hand, leading him outside the reception place, where it was empty because it was too cold.

“It’s cold here” Strike said rubbing his hands before adjusting Robin’s long coat better over her green dress.

“I’m sorry, is the only empty place.” Robin led him to sit on a bench that was a bit more guarded from the snow and the cold “I’ve got something important to tell you.” Strike frowned.

“Are you breaking up with me?” Strike asked right away. Robin frowned.

“What? No!” Robin shook her head and Strike breathed out in relief “Is just...” Robin sighed “I didn’t get my period in November. Nor in October. And I expected to get it this month, for so far, it doesn’t even feel like is coming.” Strike frowned.

“Are you feeling sick? Want me to accompany you to a doctor?”

“Actually, I thought about it and I haven’t felt quite myself for a few weeks... I thought it was just the love vibes, you know... but then... I’ve been super hormonal, and throwing up sometimes...”

“You threw up?” Strike frowned, looking concerned.

“Yeah well, I... look, we’re private detectives. We shouldn’t have it hard to imagine what’s going on, right?” Robin said nervously. Strike looked confused “Come on, Corm... we’ve been making love like rabbits...” she chuckled nervously. Strike curved his lips into a tiny side smile and nodded slowly.

“Did you check?” Strike asked.

“I bought some tests the morning before we left” Robin said “but I didn’t want to do it without you and with all the wedding chaos, I couldn’t find the right time to tell you. I was thinking, now everyone’s distracted. They’re in my purse, we can sneak to the bathroom in one second and quickly...” Strike nodded, getting up.

“Let’s go check, shall we? As long as you’re peeing yourself.” Strike commented, chuckling. Robin smiled a little and nodded, following him to the bathroom.

Strike gave her some privacy while she peed on not one, but seven sticks each of a different brand, and then they wrapped them with toilet paper before locking themselves in an empty room and seemed to be where they kept the boxes of drinks to keep refilling at the party. They sat on some of the boxes and Robin unwrapped the sticks.

“Together?” Robin asked looking at him.

“Seven pluses, you’re pregnant.” Strike went over the instructions that they both had read thoroughly and Robin nodded. They were about to look down, when Robin stopped them.

“Wait!” She was getting nervous now “what if... what if I am?” Strike looked serious at her and held her free hand, an arm around her shoulders.

“Look, I’ll support you, whatever you want to do. If you want to abort, I’ll accompany you tomorrow if you want. But Robin... I’d really like to have it” Strike sighed “I’m thirty-seven. I’m getting old. Soon my guys will be too old to go fast enough and nail it”, he said lightly, making Robin chuckle “I know this isn’t exactly how you wanted it, we haven’t been together for long and we aren’t even engaged or anything, and we only have a tiny flat for the three of us but... look, if we keep waiting for the right time, it may never arrive. We’ve both almost died a few times, and I wouldn’t want to miss out the opportunity if the pills and condoms failed, and end up never having it.” Robin nodded looking at him with tears in her eyes. Strike kissed her on the lips “I know parenthood is hard but... we’ve got each other, our family and friends, and a business that’s getting more clients every day, we don’t need anything else. We can do this, Robin. I know we can. As someone who grew up with barely stuff, in some place that could hardly be called a house... I know all this child is going to want is our love, our attention, and a place to call home. I think we can give them that, don’t you think?” Robin smiled, a tear falling freely through her cheek, and nodded “Then, let’s look. Whatever happens, it’ll be okay because we have each other, okay? I promise you.” Robin nodded, speechless, and they looked down.


	15. Double burrito

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strike, father? what?

Half an hour later, the couple left the room and went to the bathroom to try not to seem like they had spent half an hour crying. Then, Strike led Robin to the dance floor.

“You don’t dance.” Robin whispered.

“I do if it’s with you.” Strike replied, making her smile. She put her arms around his shoulders and her face against his chest, and Strike pressed his lips against her hair as they slow danced to ‘Dreams’ by The Cranberries. Robin pulled apart a little.

“I love this song.” She said.

“I know” Strike smiled “you’re always singing The Cranberries in the shower. They were your favourite when you were a teenager, your mother told me.” Robin smiled tearfully and nodded.

“God, damn hormones” she laughed softly, rubbing her eyes. Strike chuckled and leant to whisper by her ear.

“You’re going to be an incredible mother, Robin. You’re a very nice, very decent person.” He added, quoting himself months ago, and Robin gulped a sob, hugging him tightly as they moved through the dance floor.

“Is everything alright with my sister?” Jonathan asked Strike as the two drank some champagne a while later “She’s very... emotional.” Strike breathed deeply looking at Robin dancing wildly to some pop songs with a bunch of women, all laughing and jumped.

“She’s got her period, you know” Strike said simply.

“Ah...” Jonathan nodded in understatement “Sorry man.” Strike looked at him, confused.

“Sorry?”

“Well, you know... they’re a nightmare during that time. Mood changes and all.”

“Oh” Strike nodded “well Jonathan, I actually don’t see why I should complain for her period. She’s the one in tremendous pain pulling through the day while bleeding out, going to work and helping me around, while a kick in the balls is enough to neutralise any of us. And it’s all because her body is so magnificent that is capable of detecting when she isn’t pregnant, and break and regenerate her insides. And as gore, disgusting and scary as it may seem to us, those women act as if it’s nothing and don’t even complain. I don’t get to complain because she’s emotional, for God’s sakes.” He commented calmly. Jonathan looked at him in a mixture between admiration and sudden lack of appetite.

“Man, you’re damn hooked.” Strike chuckled.

“There you’re right.”

That night, Robin caught the bouquet of flowers from her sister in law and grinned at Strike across the room. The next day, Robin took her father’s car and, accompanied by Strike, they drove to the closest big city, where Robin had an appointment with a gynaecologist she had made sure no one in her social group new, but who was recommended online.

“Welcome, I’m Doctor Simons” an old woman with white coat greeted them at the consult “You must be Ms and Mr. Ellacott, come on in...”

“Actually I’m Ms. Ellacott. He’s my boyfriend, Cormoran Strike.” Robin corrected shaking her hand.

“Oh, sorry” the doctor shook Strike’s hand “nice to meet you two. So, what brings you here?”

“We’re pretty sure I’m pregnant” Robin said directly “got seven sticks positive, none negative. We live in London but, we’re out for the holidays and didn’t want to take the whole long ride home just for this so we figured I could get checked here?”

“Oh, sure! Congratulations! Why don’t you lie there and we take a look? I’ll need you to lower your pants and underwear and lift your shirt up to your bra.” The doctor explained kindly, helping Robin accommodate on the reclined bed. Robin sat up reclined in the bed and did as told and Strike stood next to the head of the bed, stroking Robin’s hair absentmindedly. He was both nervous and excited. The doctor warmed up a cream with her hands before extending it over Robin’s abdomen, and she was silently thankful for the detail. Then, the doctor proceeded to do an ultrasound, and the couple’s eyes glued to a screen. It wasn’t long before they heard a strong heartbeat that brought Robin to tears right away and even Strike sensed a knot in his throat “There it is, your kid...” she said smiling. Robin had a hand on her mouth.

“Why does it sound like... like it beats every millisecond?” Strike asked “I know their heartbeat should be faster than ours, but doesn’t it sound too fast?”

“What you’re hearing is actually... two heartbeats alternating. That’s why it sounds so frequent, they’ve managed to alternate and when one doesn’t sound the other does.” The doctor communicated.

“Excuse me, two?” Robin asked tearfully. The doctor nodded with a smile and pointed to the ultrasound.

“There it is... see this? Two separated amniotic sacs. Two babies. Fraternal twins, is called.” The doctor explained “I’d say you’re about... seven weeks pregnant. Two strong, normal heartbeats, they seem healthy. That’ll be baby A, and we’ll call that one baby B for now... B seems a bit smaller, but that’s normal with twins. Your due date is estimated for the first half of August.”

“Oh my...” Robin breathed deeply “twins?” she asked, a slight expression of panic as she looked at Strike, who kissed her head.

“Remember, all they’re going to need is our love, our attention and a place to call home. We have friends, family and each other, we can do this just fine. We’ll be all good.” Strike reassured her, and she nodded.

“I take that it wasn’t expected.” The doctor said with an understanding expression.

“Well, it’s our first and, I’m thirty-seven, you see... I didn’t think my guys could beat birth control at this age.” Strike joked, wanting to divert things from the presumption that they were two irresponsible adults. It worked to at least make Robin chuckle “Can we know the gender?”

“Is too early for that I’m afraid” doctor said “so far, since is twins, I’d advise you two have a couple monthly appointments...  We could meet in a couple weeks if you’ll still be around here.”

“Sure” Robin nodded “and I’ll call my regular gynaecologist in London and schedule an appointment for January. We should be able to know the gender by then, right?”

“Most likely, February at the very most” the doctor nodded “well, congrats again.”

Robin called doctor Riverview in the car before even introducing the key in it, and scheduled an appointment.

“So... two babies...” Robin commented a while later, in the car.

“We’ll be good. It’s good news, Robin.” Strike smiled squeezing her thigh. Robin smiled nervously.

“I’m just nervous. And excited. And a bit afraid of what two babies can do to my vagina, to be honest.” Strike chuckled.

“Many women have done this before. And it’s going to be 2012, if there’s 3D ultrasounds like the one we’ve got, there’s going to be a lot of stuff to make the labour easier.” Strike calmed her down, looking at the ultrasound picture between his hands. He was amazed at those little beings that he could barely distinguish.

“You’re right” Robin nodded “will you be there with me, though? I think... it’ll be easier to push if you’re there to hold my hand or something...” Robin said, blushing. Strike smiled looking at her.

“Of course honey” Robin chuckled.

“Honey? Are we doing cheesy nicknames now?”

“We’re having children, we might as well be the cheesiest parents in the world too.” Strike joked, making her laugh.

“I like it.”


	16. A, B

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> News!

The couple decided to keep the news for themselves until Valentine’s Day, when Robin was in a less risky period and they knew the genders and, hopefully, could name the babies something other than ‘A’ and ‘B’.

“Leda” suggested Robin as they had a romantic breakfast at a coffee on Christmas morning.

“I appreciate it, but it’s rather ugly Robin...” Strike grimaced “Plus, when I say Leda, I like that everyone knows who I’m talking about. We name our kid Leda, and she’ll end up being Junior or Ledie, and I don’t know which one is uglier.” Robin laughed, but nodded.

“As a middle name then? I like that our daughter has her grandmother’s name.” Strike smiled and nodded.

“What about... Charlie?”

“Uh, no thanks. Bird names? You know, Robin, and Cormoran in Spanish is also a bird...”

“Please, I don’t want to be nicknamed the bird family...”

“Okay...” Robin looked thoughtful “Daniel?” Strike looked at her ready to say no but then... suddenly it didn’t sound so wrong “Daniel Strike. I like it. We can call him Dan, or Danny. Or James...”

“What about...” Strike started “Daniel Michael Strike?” Robin looked at him in awe “if we’re going to name her after my mother, I say we name him after your father. Better than London or Dolores.” Robin laughed, getting the reference. The babies had been conceived in London, and Robin was named Venetia because that’s where she was conceived, while Dolores O’Riordan was the singer of The Cranberries, and Strike had been named Blue after a band.

“I actually kind of love it” Robin said “His name is not as weird and uncommon as ours, in fact is quite normal but... sounds sweet and strong at once. And is meaningful.” Strike nodded.

“He’s going to be unique anyway.” Strike shrugged “So we’re stuck on the girl?” Robin nodded. After a few seconds of silence, Strike made a suggestion “Sophie.”

“Sophie Leda Strike...” Robin sat back, her hands absentmindedly on her belly, looking through the window “Sophie and Daniel, Daniel and Sophie...” she did a gesture with her lips, frowned a little, and Strike observed silently, until she smiled “Yeah. Yeah, that works good for me.” Robin grinned “They sound sweet and strong, they’re meaningful, and it has a ring to it.”

“Look at this” Strike said, reading from his phone “Sophie means ‘wisdom’ in Greek” Robin hummed in approval.

“She does have quite a smart daddy.” She commented with a smirk, and Strike chuckled “What about Daniel?”

“Biblical, Jewish...” Strike shrugged, reading his phone “Means God is my judge in Hebrew... I hope he doesn’t tell us that when we ground him.” He joked, and Robin chuckled.

“It’s okay. He’ll give it its own meaning one day.”

“What if we have two boys or two girls?” Strike asked putting his cell back in his pocket.

“Y’know...” Robin sighed “We managed to find one full name of each in one hour sitting at a coffee before I’m even three months pregnant. I think that’s already quite an accomplishment.”

“We’re good at this already” Strike said smug, and Robin couldn’t help but stare lovingly at him and say nothing “Merry Christmas, Robin and twins.”

“Merry Christmas baby daddy” Robin whispered, reaching a hand to squeeze Strike’s.

Strike had gotten sex, breakfast in bed and a new, expensive watch from Robin on his birthday. He thought that was already pretty awesome, but when Robin gave him, behind her family’s backs, a framed picture of their children’s ultrasounds, he genuinely cried, and so did Robin when he gave her a package with two beautiful newborn onesies with the classic ‘Double’ in one and ‘Trouble’ in another. All her family had seen them open from each other under the tree with the rest of the family had been a book, tickets to a concert of The Cranberries, a new jacket and a camera, but the baby-revealing ones had been exchanged in the privacy of their bedroom.

“It’s the best Christmas ever” Strike said as they went back downstairs, holding hands and pretending not to have gotten all emotional with the baby presents.

“I’m glad” Robin smiled turning around to kiss him briefly “can I just say you seem even more attractive since you’re a soon-to-be daddy?” Strike smirked with an air of superiority.

“Thanks.”

“Oh, shut it” Robin rolled her eyes seeing his ego rise and playfully slapped him on the chest, chuckling. Before she continued downstairs, Strike wrapped his arms tightly around her, kissing her cheek from behind.

“I can’t wait for you to start showing. I’m sure you’re going to get ever more gorgeous than I ever thought possible for someone to be. As if you weren’t the prettiest already.” His warm breath against her neck did things to her and, blushing, tried to keep it in her pants “And just so you know... you already gave me the best present ever.” He added, lovingly stroking her belly over the jumper she was wearing.

“You’re the sweetest bear...” Robin gave him a chaste peek on the lips “but let’s not make my family wait much more or they’d think we’re on it.” Strike chuckled and followed her.

“There you are” Linda grinned walking to them and affectionately caressed Strike’s cheeks “you’ve gotten so thin, come, I made you that pie Robin says you love.”

“Oh, thank you Ms...”

“Linda” she reminded him, and he nodded, grateful. That Christmas he had gotten way more presents than in his entire life, he was sure. He never thought he’d care much about it, at the end many years, he’d just forget Christmas existed, but now he wasn’t sure he could settle down with a life without a big tree, many presents, Christmas love making, baby onesies, big pies and full chocolate mugs while snuggling with the prettiest girl of school in front of the chimney.

The family sat around the chimney, Martin offering Strike his favourite armchair and Robin sitting with Martin on the carpet, her back against Strike’s legs as he played with her hair.

“So how’s work going Corm?” Michael asked joining them.

“It’s good. Robin’s done a flawless job in my absence keeping things afloat and we’ve had... what, five clients more in the last month?” Robin nodded “It’s good because alone I wouldn’t be able to attend them all, but now, we can divide the easiest ones and have more clients.”

“We’ve been able to afford an incredible secretary now and! Heater all around the office and the attic.” Robin bragged happily. Michael chuckled seeing his daughter happy.

“And the attic looks like an actual home since Robin’s there” Strike admitted “that painting you guys have given us for Christmas will look really nice in our living.” Robin nodded, turning to smile lovingly at Strike.

Later, when Robin and Michael went with Linda to get things organised in the kitchen, Martin looked at Strike.

“You know, I thought she and Matthew were disgustingly cute” Martin commented in his thick Yorkshire accent “but you guys have reached unexpected limits.” He got up and went to walk beside Strike’s armchair when he stopped to squeeze his shoulder and lock eyes with him, with a little smile “Means she’s truly happy.” Strike chuckled.

“I try.” He replied. As Martin left, Strike took a moment to look at the fire in the chimney, and it was almost as he could see clearly two little toddlers sitting right in front, playing with trains or something. They’d be redheaded, flawless waves covering their tiny heads, blue-gray big eyes, their noses covered in freckles and huge cheeks, just like their mother. Their tiny fatty hands would be grabbing their toys with excessive strength and their cute little lips would be making ‘choo choo’ noises.

“Want more chocolate?” he looked up and saw Robin standing next to him, a hand stroking his hair, her long red hair falling over her shoulder and a loving glance at him that always made him blush. Only then did he notice his empty mug and felt another wave of gratitude towards her. How had she even seen his empty mug from the kitchen, and he hadn’t?

**. . .**

New Years came in a blur of walks through the countryside, snow fights, one last trip to the gynaecologist in Yorkshire, and warm snuggles, and a New Years’ kiss never felt so sweet, just as Bonfire Night had been the previous month. But it was finally time to head back home so, starting January and after an affectionate farewell, the couple got back in the train, where Robin, feeling so tired as a product of creating two human beings, snuggled in Strike’s arms, who suddenly felt three times more protective about her.

“My mother knows” Robin said suddenly.

“Really?” Strike looked at her curiously. He didn’t need to ask what she was talking about.

“She whispered in my ear some pregnancy advice when we said goodbye. Told me she’d keep the secret for as long as we needed and that you’re a good man.”

“Oh” Strike nodded “nice.”

Once home, Strike let Robin take a very deserved nap and went back to the office. Ginny was still on holiday, so he focused on getting ahead on some job, and going outside on surveillance. He had let Robin a note letting her know he’d be working, but when he came back she was still asleep, splashed on their sofa with the blanket Strike had accommodated on her. He sat on the verge of the sofa and rubbed her back kindly until she opened her eyes a little.

“Aren’t you hungry?” Strike asked.

“Mostly tired” Robin grumbled “making humans is sooo exhausting Corm.” Strike chuckled and got up. After preparing a big bowl of soup, he went back with it to the sofa and woke Robin up again “wut...” she said without opening her eyes.

“I made you soup, come on, I’ll give it to your mouth? Serves for practice” Strike said, making her chuckle. Robin sat up a little using pillows Strike put behind her for leverage and looked at him, surprised “Come on” Strike said, moving a spoon towards her mouth. She smiled a little as if he was joking, but took it nonetheless “making humans is so exhausting, but you also have to feed three of them.”


	17. Valentine's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some sweet chapter

Valentine’s Day came faster than they imagined. By then, Strike and Robin had been officially a couple for almost three months, and the unborn Strike babies were now sixteen weeks old, which was starting to show, leading Robin to use the thickest jumpers she owned every time they weren’t alone, even if it led to her pulling her sleeves up and wearing messy buns constantly. Perfect time to figure the genders out.

“Ah, I see” Doctor Riverview was a woman only a bit younger than Strike, with short blonde hair in pixie cut and glasses. She had, as they had found out, four children now in their teenage years, and Strike didn’t need much time to figure out she was a really intelligent woman, as if her curriculum didn’t show enough “yeah, it’s easy to see now.” Strike frowned looking at the 3D ultrasound in pretty good quality, wondering how come he could barely even distinguish their heads “So do you want to know?”

“Yes please” Robin nodded, squeezing Strike’s hand.

“Well baby A” Doctor Riverview pointed in the screen “is definitely a girl, even more compared with her brother.”

“Brother?” Robin chuckled “A girl and a boy?”

“Yeah, I’m 99% sure I’d say” Doctor Riverview grinned.

“Heard that?” Robin slapped Strike “Boy and girl! We got both, how lucky!” Strike nodded, smiling slowly.

“Great” he recognized, grabbing Robin’s slapping hand between his and chuckling at her “good!”

“Sophie and Daniel” Robin nodded for herself.

“Ah, there were planned names?” Riverview nodded with a smirk “Good. Well, Sophie here is big, strong and healthy. Daniel too, but he seems to be developing slower than his quick-witted sister, which could be a problem if when you go into labour only Sophie is ready to be out. Daniel would have to spend some time in an incubator.”

“How big is the difference?” Strike asked, frowning in concern.

“Well, Sophie has a good size for a four month old. Daniel looks more like three, three and a half.” The doctor explained “Which means his organs are also smaller. Lungs, heart...”

“There must be something we can do, right?” Robin could feel her heart beating strongly in worry “Should I eat more?”

“I’m afraid not much” the Doctor said “we’ll observe and see. If when you go in labour Sophie has developed normally like a 40 weeks baby and Daniel has a development of 35 or 36 weeks, he’d barely be a preemie, so it would be easy to just put him in the incubator a couple weeks.” She continued explaining them. Suddenly Strike regretted not knowing more of medicine “If as the time approached we observed he’s too underdeveloped, maybe we could schedule a C-Section, get Sophie out when she’s ready, and leave Daniel in there. Since their sacks are separated, it wouldn’t affect him and it’d give him more room to move, grow... he could either start developing faster, or keep going slow but stay there longer than if his sister was there to provoke the labour when she was ready even if he wasn’t.”

“So you’re telling us in the twenty first century we can’t do more for our son than sit and watch.” Strike grumbled, looking at his son in the screen as if he could somehow let him know his parents were there, watching over him.

“Not nothing” Doctor Riverview tried to calm them down “healthy diet, exercise, trying to live as healthily as possible. Do any of you smoke?”

“No” Robin answered, looking at Strike questioningly. He had, supposedly, dropped it since his surgery, but Robin smelled it on his clothes every now and then.

“I haven’t done it at all since... well, since we found out” Strike motioned for the screen. Robin smiled proudly at him, and nodded. Strike shrugged “I figured they really shouldn’t be around smoke at all. I didn’t want them to smell it on me or something.”

“Good” Doctor Riverview seemed satisfied “then it’ll be healthier.”

Back at home, Strike prepared a romantic dinner, just for the two of them to celebrate the first Valentine’s he had had since Charlotte. But he imagined Robin was used to great Valentine’s days so he wanted to be up to that. In the meantime, he had convinced her to go to sleep.

“Hey” Strike smiled at Robin as she came out of their bedroom wearing one of his big shirts. He had put on his best suit and there were flowers all around their living room, small candles, food on the table, juice and Robin’s favourite chocolates. Robin’s jaw dropped as she rubbed her eyes, sleepily.

“What’s all of this?” Robin asked, impressed.

“I figured...” Strike shrugged, and gave Robin a cartoon box with a lace “I know Valentine’s this super commercial thing, all about stores and everything... but it’s supposed to be more than that, isn’t it? You know, all that... about love and all. Family. I figured we could make it our own way. This is not really for you but...” Robin chuckled at his awkwardness and opened the box.

Inside, she found two books, big and thick. They had elegant covers, and a different name engraved on each cover.

“Sophie Leda Strike... Daniel Michael Strike...” Robin read, and she opened the first one, that was Sophie’s. There were pages and pages “Your first tooth... your first words... your first birthday...” A sob caught in Robin’s throat “Corm, this is...”

“It always seemed bizarre to me, how much we miss of our lives when it was possibly the best times. We don’t know more than what our parents tell us. This way... they get to know. We can spend hours caring to write it and tell them how now is like. Every little thing they do. And at the same time, we can save the memories, recall things and laugh again when the times are rougher. It’s a constant physical proof that they’ve been doing a lot since they were born, too.” Strike shrugged, his hands on his pockets. Robin threw herself in his arms, crying.

“Best presents ever” Robin sobbed into his arms. He smiled and hugged her back, the books pressed between them.

In the morning, Strike woke up early in the morning for work, and relished on the feeling of Robin’s bulky abdomen against her palm, her skin soft and warm as she lied nude, spooned by him. He got up and showered quickly, putting on a light gray shirt and some jeans and, after grabbing a mug of tea and a muffin, and tucking Robin in bed, went downstairs to the office, where Ginny hadn’t appeared yet, since it was so early.

An hour later Ginny arrived and, another hour later, she knocked on the door.

“Come in” Strike invited.

“Mr. Strike” Ginny appeared on the doorstep, her blonde hair short to her shoulders and a kind appearance that reminded him a lot of Julie Walters “there’s a man here, he doesn’t have an appointment. Said he’s called Andrew Thomas, that he wants you to find his son.” Strike frowned slightly and straightened in his chair.

“Alright, let him in.” Soon, a tall man entered his office. He looked to be in his late forties, had a receding hairline and his black-gray, curly hair was rebellious. He had a white, short beard, that was obvious that he hadn’t taken care of in a while. He had a desperate look and no ring in his hand “Good morning Mr. Thomas, I’m Private Detective Cormoran Strike. Excuse the absence of my partner, Private Detective Robin Ellacott, she’ll come in later.” Mr. Thomas shook his hand.

“Nice to meet you” Thomas said. He sat where Strike indicated in front of his desk, and then Strike noticed his humble and nervous appearance.

“So, how can I help you?”

“My son, Colin” he took a picture from his wallet and showed Strike a little boy, black short hair, brown eyes, toothless smile, skinny, little body “he’s seven. He disappeared two days ago. I’ve been looking for him like crazy, in vain.”

“Have you gone to the police?”

“Yeah, but they don’t care. You see, he was with my ex wife, Dolores Edmonds, it was her turn with him. I got his custody because she’s been rehabilitating from drug use, and she gets him in the weekends. I started suspecting something was wrong when he didn’t call me two days ago as he promised. He always calls me. He has a cell I gave him for when he was with her, just in case he needed anything, and he isn’t picking up or anything. Dolores doesn’t either. I have no idea where he is. He should already be back home, since yesterday, and I’ve gotten no news from either of them. Police says she’s just taking longer, that they’re busy and the kid is safe with his mom, that I should let them be. But I know them, Mr. Strike...” Thomas looked visibly affected, and rubbed his eyes “He would never disappear like this. We get very along. And she’s threatened before with taking him away.” Strike frowned. He had never gotten a case like this, and he wasn’t sure he had what it took for something of that scale “Please, Mr. Strike. You resolved the Landry case, and the serial killer of women, and then the Whittaker case...”

“I didn’t quite resolve that one, police and my partner did.” Strike intervened, but Thomas didn’t seem to care.

“You’ve got big fame, you’re Colin’s only hope. They’re incompetents at the police, but you... you’re good. Everyone says so.”

“Mr. Thomas” Strike leaned forward “I’d love to help you, but I think this is a matter for the police. It’s about your son’s life. I usually have cases of cheating or people that want to figure out who killed who... but without a child’s life in the middle.”

“Police will do nothing. Mr. Strike, I’ll pay you all you want, just please...” he was starting to get distressed.

“Mr. Thomas...”

“Good morning” Robin cheerfully entered the office. Mr. Thomas turned around, surprised, and stood up to shake her hand.

“You must be Private Detective Ellacott” she was surprised but flattered and nodded shaking his hand back.

“And you must be Mr. Thomas. Ginny, our secretary, told me we had visit. I’ll leave you to it, I’ll just be on my desk working...” Robin motioned to her desk in the opposite side.

“Actually Robin, I think this is a case for the both of us, if we take it. I’m not taking it alone.” Robin thought that was strange, so she sat on the arms of Strike’s armchair, taking advantage of the position to squeeze her thigh as a ‘hi’.

“Of course, what is it about?” Robin asked.

“I think my ex-wife kidnapped my eight year old son. Police isn’t willing to help, so I want you to find him.” Mr. Thomas explained.

“I was just explaining Mr. Thomas that is too big of a case for private detectives, that police should take care of it because the life of a little boy could be at risk and is too much of a big deal for just some private detective.” But Strike only had to see Robin’s widening eyes in shock and horror dissimulated to anyone but him to know she was in. She was pregnant, after all. She was probably putting herself in Mr. Thomas’ shoes without too much difficulty.

“Absolutely not, Cormoran” Robin frowned “this man needs our help. We know how incompetent police can sometimes be, and we won’t forgive ourselves...”

“Look, I want to help too, but don’t you think this escapes our...?”

“Cormoran” Robin leaned to his ear “if I had trusted the police without intervening, you’d be dead. Is a big thing, either we look for the boy, or no one else will. We’re better chances than nothing at all, we wouldn’t forgive ourselves if something happens to him that we had a chance to avoid.” Strike sighed and nodded.

“Alright, alright... we’ll take it together” he looked at Mr. Thomas, who looked relieved.

“Will it cost more since, it’s both of you or...?”

“No.” Robin assured “Mr. Thomas, finding your son will need for us to spend money on public transport such as metro, taxis or trains, paying people to talk if necessary, or buying any material we may need. We usually try to spend the least as possible because we know whatever we spend is money we aren’t earning. What I mean is, it doesn’t depend on whether one or the both of us is working in your case, since we usually chime in each other’s cases anyway.”

“Also, we’ll give total priority to your case given its obvious importance, what means we won’t be obtaining money from any other clients for the time we need to find Colin, no idea how long, but we’ll try to make it the shortest, obviously. In that time, we will still need to have food on the table, pay our taxes and the office’s expenses, including our secretary. I just hope you understand we’ll adapt to your circumstances if we could, but we can’t, so you’ll have to accept our prizes if you want us to help you, no bargaining.” Strike didn’t usually explain these things to his clients, but lately he had started to get pissed with the frequent bargaining attempts.

“I understand” Mr. Thomas nodded “I don’t have much money, but I’ll find a way to pay you, I swear.” He looked desperate and Strike felt sorry for him.


	18. A lost boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Family time and announcements

That day, they closed the office early and Strike went to the streets for the Thomas’ case while Robin went back to their tiny attic to get things ready, because they had decided to invite their people over to dinner and break the news about the twins, finally. Of course the Ellacotts couldn’t come from Masham just for that, as well as Strike’s Aunt and Uncle in Cornwall. So that morning, while Strike and Robin Skyped Strike’s family in Cornwall to tell them, Robin texted her mother that she could tell the family. They told Ginny during the work time (turns out Ginny, a grandma of three, had been suspecting it for a while and wasn’t surprised at all, but very happy for them) and during dinner they planned on telling the Herberts and Lucy, who’d tell Greg and the boys later, since Greg was home with the flu, given the loads of snow that had been falling those days. Robin was very excited to talk about the pregnancy with the girls, and for the twins to be best friends with the little Herbert -Aria, as they had learnt recently-, since Ilsa was now eight months pregnant and huge, already on maternal leave because the doctor said the stress of being a lawyer wasn’t good for the baby.

“Strike should be here any minute, he’s already late” Robin said after hugging the Herberts a few hours later, dinner already almost ready and Lucy already with a cup of wine, sitting on a stool in the kitchen, since she and Robin had been small talking while Robin finished touches to their dinner “and dinner’s almost ready, just cooking a bit more...”

“Ah, I’ll go downstairs and give him a call up” Nick offered, ready to put his coat back on.

“He’s not there, has been around the city for like...” Robin checked her watch “three hours, trying to find any leads on a case.”

“Oh, with the snow?” Nick put a shocked, knowing expression.

“Hi guys!” Lucy saluted excitedly as they went back to the microscopic kitchen “how’s that pregnancy going girl?” she added, putting an arm affectionately around Ilsa, who sat with her. Since Ilsa and Strike had been friends since childhood, Lucy had always had her as a big sister, even more when she went back to Cornwall and Strike stayed with their mother, and Ilsa was the closest she had to a sibling. Ilsa and Nick had only recently moved to Hackney, London, a year and a half ago for job opportunities.

“Pretty good” Ilsa chuckled happily “Aria kicks constantly and the doctor said she’s really healthy, so we can’t wait to meet her.” Robin smiled at them while pouring Nick a cup of wine.

“It’s funny” Nick commented walking around the kitchen, observing the changes since Robin lived there, although he hadn’t been able to be there much when Strike lived alone “when I first came here this was the saddest, less homey attic I had ever seen, and now it smells nice and has this warm homey vibe. You’ve changed our Shrek Rob.” He smirked at Robin pointing to the pictures that now hung from a little cord on the wall with little wooden clothes pegs.

Robin blushed looking at the pictures, that were candid photos they had taken when they found out the other also loved photography. One was a photo of them snuggled together at Robin’s parents’ house in Masham, under the same blanket on the sofa, that Martin had taken, another was a funny selfie Robin had taken of her and Strike putting silly faces while dressing stupidly with wigs to not be identified during a surveillance, another was a picture Robin took of the new sign on the office door, ‘C. B Strike & R. V. Ellacott Private Detectives’. Then there was a picture of each of them as babies, Strike a fat, hairy baby in his mother’s arms, and Robin a little ginger cutie with a face 99% big pink cheeks and one tooth in her huge grin, on Stephen’s arms, their parents sitting on each side, before Jonathan and Martin were born; a picture Leda had taken of Strike and Lucy as little children, Lucy hugging her big brother as if she was trying to kill him, Strike only a little boy, already with pretty tall and with a pretty broad back, short dark brown hair and big blue-green eyes; a doodle Strike, a surprisingly good draughtsman, made of Robin; and lastly, a picture of them both smiling to each other, dancing to ‘Dreams’ at Stephen’s wedding, that Linda had taken.

“Aww, they’re so good. God, you were the cutest baby” Ilsa commented, noticing them for the first time.

“Not like my brother, too big and too hairy” Lucy joked, although she really didn’t think so ugly of him.

“Not at all, he was super cute, look!” Robin pointed at the pictures.

“So what’s this case about?” Lucy asked, curiously. She knew it must be important for her brother to be late for food, and they could always comment the cases if they didn’t give many names (to respect the confidentiality agreements).

“We’ve got a man whose ex wife hasn’t returned their seven year old boy to.” Robin explained “She lost his custody because she was struggling with drugs, was supposed to have him the weekend and then give him back, she didn’t, and the father can’t contact them at all, even though he gave his son a cell in case he had an emergency while being with his mother. Police isn’t giving it any importance and says he’s just spending time with his mother, nothing to worry about. But the guy was really concerned and Strike’s cleaned our entire schedule postponing all the other cases to find the boy.”

“Woah” Ilsa put a hand over her belly instinctively.

“Poor boy, hope he’s alright.” Nick frowned in concern.

“Strike says he highly doubts she’ll hurt him. He analysed her profile and insists she’s just a mother desperate to spend time with her boy, afraid they’ll take him away. He reasons that she has even made the effort to rehab for him.” Robin sighed “But I wouldn’t see it too weird if she hurt him to revenge on her ex or something, it happens all the time, we see the news. Let’s just say I think she’s the devil, and Strike’s sadder and compassionate for her rather than thinking she’s evil.”

“Don’t you think that’s for our mother?” Lucy suggested. Robin raised her eyebrows and her eyes widened.

“Bugger, I hadn’t even thought of it. Why hadn’t I thought of it?” Robin felt very stupid suddenly.

“I mean” Lucy shrugged “I left as soon as Whittaker got in my nerves enough, but I know she did drugs a lot before Corm was born, and then a little after I was born too, but she dropped it all for us. And she never put a hand on us, I don’t even remember her yelling or being particularly strict or punishing. Not even when Corm became a susceptible teenager at school and got in trouble, then she was more like ‘let’s sign you to boxing’ instead of angry. And you guys have never had a case of a bad mother, there was Quine and that disabled daughter? Wasn’t she a sweetie?”

“Yeah” Robin nodded “still visit them sometimes, the girl sends drawings a lot. Well, I basically had to convince him to take the case, he wasn’t willing to accept that amount of responsibility, so I guess a part of him is open to the idea of an ugly ending. At the end, our biggest cases were murders.”

“What a cheerful job” Nick said jokingly. Then Robin’s cell rang. Robin had already set Strike’s own tone so she didn’t need to look to know it was him.

“Everything alright? Everyone’s already here” Robin said into the phone “Sutton? With this snow you went to Sutton, seriously? Okay... alright... okay, be safe uh? We’ll wait, love you.” She hung up and sighed exasperated “He went all the way to Sutton. Just got out of the metro, should be here soon now.”

Effectively, only a few minutes later Strike made act of presence, his hair snowy, his cheeks pink, and an expression of thinking seriously about quitting his job.

“That was a hell of a worthless waste of time. Got nothing.” Strike said, kissing Robin. She used a kitchen cloth to get rid of the snow on his hair, and grabbed his hands between her own to warm them up, breathing warm onto them.

“Well at least you tried. Tomorrow we’ll be luckier.” Robin said optimistic.

They settled onto the table and had been chatting for a while. The non-pregnant ones were already through their third glass of wine or beer when Nick offered to fill Robin’s cup.

“No thanks” Robin smiled apologetically.

“How come? You love this one and now I haven’t seen you drink a cup in forever...” Lucy asked. Robin was thinking of an excuse that sounded believable enough when she caught Strike’s glance, that communicated her that maybe it was time to tell the truth, since they were going to do it that night anyway.

“Actually” Robin chuckled “I’m pregnant.” The table stared at her in surprise, except Strike, who calmly drank from his beer waiting for the bomb of congratulations and excitement that was sure to happen with Lucy and Ilsa present.

“Yeah sure” Nick laughed filling his cup “as if Cormoran would accept parenthood that easily and fast.”

“I did take the news quite well actually” Strike shrugged. Lucy’s jaw dropped looking between her brother and Robin, and she made a guttural shriek that sounded like an excited cat.

“I’m going to be an aunty?!” Lucy said so high and sharp Strike was sure the bats heard her “Oh God!” she jumped to her brother’s arms, kissing his head. Strike jumped in his seat from the surprise and winced at his sister’s strength to grab him like a boa constrictor “finally! Best thing you’ve ever done with your dick!” Robin laughed and blushed.

“Yeah, and to twins.” Strike grumbled half asphyxiated by his sister’s affection, that only got worse with that. Ilsa and Nick quickly reacted hugging their friends, and Lucy went to coo over Robin’s belly, hugging who she was for sure going to call sister from now on.

“How far along?” Lucy asked Robin as she covered her in enthusiastic affection.

“Sixteen weeks.” Robin smiled blushing. She was happy their children would have an aunt that loved them so much already.

“If I wasn’t so excited about the idea of Aria and your kids being as best friends as we are, I’d kind of hate you” Ilsa said hugging Strike fondly.

“Why?” Strike smirked. He was still quite smug about the idea of being so ‘efficient’ in bed, in a teenage immature boyish kind of way that Robin found sometimes endearing and sometimes worth a stern glare.

“Well Nick and I’ve been trying for the longest time, and you come and in what, two days? Get twins no less” Ilsa rolled her eyes “I’m good with math I know this was after you were in the hospital, you’ve got no shame, she hadn’t even divorced officially yet.” Strike laughed catching her non-serious tone and Ilsa chuckled.

“What can I say, try living with this beauty and keeping it in the pants for long.” Strike whispered to Nick later, making him laugh and nod in understatement.

“So any names yet?” Nick asked as they all sat down again, calming down “Nicholas is an awesome name, just so you know.” Robin chuckled.

“Actually we just found out the genders and decided on names yesterday, since we already had a few options prepared,” Robin explained “they’re called Sophie Leda and Daniel Michael Strike. Middle names after their grandparents.”

“Aw, a boy and a girl, is going to be us all over again!” Nick looked excitedly at his wife, who grinned.

“Oh my God, you named her after mom?” Lucy looked at Strike visibly emotional.

“Come on, don’t cry. It was Robin’s idea” Strike awkwardly squeezed his sister’s thigh “besides, is probably going to be the only granddaughter mom has, so better take the shoot.”

“We’re pretty thrilled” Robin commented “I mean, obviously we weren’t looking for it, and less than eight months ago I was persuading Matthew of not having children yet, but then we found out around Christmas and somehow it seemed right.” Strike nodded.

“We’ll manage.” Strike settled.


	19. Searching for the perfect house

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The couple search for a place to call home

“But you won’t live here right?” Lucy looked at the attic with judgement in her eyes “Because as nice of a love nest as it is, is almost literally the size of an actual nest. You can’t have twins here.”

“We’ve been looking for some places in our free time, but we’re quite indecisive and it’s being hard” Robin commented “I used to live in Ealing and it was nice, but too far away to come and go quickly if the children are there with their nanny, something happens and we’re at work, or to pick them up from school. Even though we are a bit tight economically now, we kind of want the house to be definitive and not have to move somewhere else later with two children.”

“Would be a waste of effort and money” Strike opined “this area is good, but then we figured, after Robin already had an stalker last year, we don’t want the house to be so close to the office everyone who has aversion to us can easily track us after work and figure out where we live and get close to the kids.”

“My neighbourhood is nice and far enough” Lucy chimed in.

“Your neighbourhood is also way over our budget, Lucy” Strike said “we checked already.”

“And are you sure you want to stay in London? We all were raised in the countryside and it was great right?” Nick commented.

“I’d personally love for Daniel and Sophie to have the between horses life I had” Robin said “but then again, we won’t find much work in the countryside, and we’re too obsessed about our jobs. Plus, Lucy’s boys are being raised here and Strike spent many years here and they’re good right? They’ll get the city kids kind of childhood, with trips to the museums, zoos, aquariums, the London Eye, the Big Ben, the Thames, or Camden. London’s interesting enough, it’ll be a great childhood as much as ours.”

“And they’ll get holiday trips to Masham and Cornwall, fun.” Strike added “I’m trying to convince Robin to get a flat, even if it’s just for rent. One big enough, comfortable for me with the leg and also being an apartment, more protected and less things to maintain. But she wants a house and is pretty stubborn about it.”

“I grew up in a big house and it’s perfect! Two kids, two floors to divide when they fight, plenty of space, plenty of room, when the business’ better we hire a cleaning service if needed. We could have a little garden so they have something of the countryside, maybe a little vegetable patch, maybe a tree house, or a dog...” Robin said excitedly. Strike rolled her eyes.

“I can’t even say no to that face.” Strike grumbled, making Robin grin happily. Strike only hoped the twins weren’t that impossible to resist, or they were going to raise very spoiled brats.

“Well, there’s this house in our street, near Victoria Park, in Hackney. There’s even a hospital nearby” Ilsa commented “There were some houses in a street that had some construction problems due to how old they were, so they threw them down, and they inaugurated a part a year ago, all new, we bought one of those, and now they’ve inaugurated the other half, and they’re really nice houses. They’re each different, but you they’re all two floors plus attic, entirely new, classic British entry with the little front wall and fenced door to the street, with the little front patio for the trash, and the three steps to the front door, small back garden with tiny pools.”

“Pretty much like yours” Strike commented, and Ilsa nodded.

“Yeah, in that sense they’re all the same. The rest is different, we went to visit a few pretending to be interested, just for curiosity” Ilsa explained “they’re really pretty, warm, nice. They’re all with brand new thermal system, acclimatized, just painted, floor and all new, without furniture, that is. But they have a fireplace, between two and three bedrooms, a couple bathrooms, and the bathrooms and kitchen do come with most of the furniture. And the pool is nice, for the summer.” For some reason Strike couldn’t imagine himself wanting to take a bath ever in London if it wasn’t an acclimatized pool “The back garden is cute. Small but big enough for the little pool and a small barbecue area. I personally think is your style of place, but better.”

A few days later, Robin dragged Strike to see the place Ilsa had told them about. The houses must’ve gotten popular because most of them were sold out already. A good portion of the street was the famous new houses, and the rest were small shops, older houses, small apartments, a flower store and a small pub. Arriving there, Strike got a friendly vibe, liking the people he saw and the general vibe of the neighbourhood. He had of course been at the area a lot to visit the Herberts and it always seemed nice and out of his budget even in his best dreams, but Strike didn’t want to tell that to the very excited and very hormonal Robin, who grabbed his hand all the way there, smiling and pointing excitedly around the neighbourhood exclaiming ‘look Corm, how cute!’ ‘have you seen that?’ like a child in a zoo.

Ilsa was right, the houses were homey, welcoming, built for families and attractive, but after seeing a couple houses that were either too claustrophobic or just didn’t feel right, they were a bit disappointed. Then they entered one that made Strike feel at peace the second the front door closed behind them. Robin smiled.

“Feel it?” Robin whispered. They tended to guide by hunches and vibes a lot as a professional deformation, and Strike nodded with a little smirk “It’s inviting. Feels like home.” The Real Estate Agent, a black woman named Louise, smiled at them.

The entry was small. The moment they entered the house, they faced a small corridor with a staircase attached to the wall on their right, the first flight long, and the second turned to the left and was pretty short.

            The staircase had a cupboard underneath, big enough to keep the cleaning stuff. The corridor led to a small toilet room at the end of it, and a big double sliding glass door in front of the cupboard led to a spacious, well illuminated by a huge window that led to the front of the house, sitting-dining room.

            “Nice” whispered Robin as they stood by the doorstep of said room “big enough for our sofa and our TV over the chimney, our table can go there...” she imagined their home as she looked at the empty space, it just came flooding “and it’ll still be spacey enough for you to move easily even with the crutches.” Strike nodded. In front of them was the wall that led to their neighbours in the other side -Louise commented they were a couple of very sympathetic grandparents in their late sixties, calm and friendly, that had been there years- and Strike walked to the big window on their left, seeing the entry of the house through it. It was a bay window with a cute little wooden bench covered in cushion material on the top, where one sat. It even had a bit of a cushioned back between the glass and the surface of the bench, so you didn’t support your back entirely on glass.

            “Here’s the kitchen” Louise pointed to their right extreme of the room, behind Strike, where the kitchen was, separated by a small counter-bar with stools, and an arch. Aside from that, the only furniture in the kitchen were the counters, wall closets over them, and the hole for the fridge. The kitchen wasn’t huge, but it wasn’t bad at all. There was the door that led to the back garden.

            “Sunny” Strike commented as they stepped to the back garden.

            “That’s the pool” Louise indicated pointing to the tiny one “is empty, but you can see it has actual big steps towards the inside, so you” she added, pointing to Strike “and the babies can hang out there comfortably.”

            “Aww” Robin chuckled looking at Strike “and look, we can put a table here, there’re roof tiles covering in case it rains, and do barbecues.”

            “And the grass’ firm, real” Strike commented walking around the sunny garden. There was space for the vegetables Robin thought of and big, thick, shrub walls separated their property from their neighbours’.

            Next, they went upstairs. The upper floor mirrored the lower. The corridor was smaller, that is, but there was a big bathroom with two sinks on a large counter, over the toilet in the floor below, and in the opposite side of the corridor there was the master bedroom, pretty big, as it was over the entry and part of the beginning of the staircase. Most of the house was gray-white-beige colours, and the master bedroom also had pastel tones, in this case, an a bit dark, pastel blue with white skirting boards, white ceiling, and a soft carpet floor. There was a big window over the frontal door of the house, and they had a small en suite bathroom and a built-in huge closet.

            “Look, we could put our bed there, by the window” Robin suggested excitedly. Strike doubted more and more by the second that they could afford the house, and was starting to dread telling Robin.

            Over the living room and the kitchen, there were two large bedrooms, one with a window to the front of the house, and another with a window to the garden. They entered the first one, closer to the master bedroom, and saw, pleased, that there was a bay window on top of the one in the living room, exactly the same.

            “We could sit there and read bed time stories to the kids” Robin whispered tearfully. To her, it was as if anywhere she looked, in those empty, blank rooms, suddenly she could see furniture, and hear children laughter, and see toys all over the floor “don’t you see it Corm? The cribs there, by that wall... dinosaur decorations on the walls, for example...” she looked at Strike with such a grin, his knees weakened.

            After the house tour ended, they went to the front porch to chat. When Louise told them the prize, Robin’s face dropped. She had just divorced, had to spend money in a lawyer and a divorce deal, sell her house, divide the bank account with Matthew... and Strike lived in an attic as small as a box, practically. He’d spent a ton of money in the hospital expenses, and now they paid a secretary. There was no way, even with their growing professional success and savings, that they could afford a house like that. Maybe without the garden and the upper floor...

            Strike shot Robin a crestfallen look, putting an arm comfortingly around her shoulders and squeezing her tight. He didn’t even want to think about the possible constructions the house would need to adapt it for his disability, like shower bars, or buying all the furniture, and let’s not even start with having to buy double of everything for the babies.

            “Well, our budget is a little... below that” Strike started. Louise nodded knowingly “and we still need to buy half the furniture since we live in a much smaller place, and save for two babies. Isn’t there a possibility to... lower it? Maybe a couple thousands less? Or... don’t know, pay it in many, many, many times? We really do like the house...”

            Louise pursed her lips and then smiled.

            “Wait, I’m going to call the owners. The house is still property of the people that lived here, in the old one I mean. They moved away when they heard it had to be rebuilt from scratch and now they don’t want to move again, they have many kids, it’d be too complicated, which is why they’re selling. Maybe they’ll make a deal for you, they’re good people.” Louise spent a few minutes in the phone, and came back with a grin “The owners liked you, apparently they’re huge admirers of your professional success. They’re willing to make a prize.” She was still on the phone with them, judging by the hand on the phone “Here, you can talk with them yourself.” She put it on speaker.

            “Hello, Mr Strike and Ms Ellacott.” A friendly voice of a woman said on the phone “My wife and I heard you want to buy the house.”

            “Yes, hello” Strike saluted.

            “Hi” added Robin “we love your house but uh, we don’t make that much and I’m pregnant with twins and we’re saving up for that so... we can’t afford it.”

            “How much would you be able to pay?”

            Over the next few minutes, they discussed the house valued and what they could pay and in how many payments to make it comfortable, and they finally had a deal. They had bought the house. Apparently, the family that had owned it to that point wanted for good people to have the house, and the fact that they were also about to have children only earned them more points. They didn’t want some assholes in a place that, even if it was changed now, had given them so many memories, even the birth of two of their extended army of children.


	20. About babies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pure romance and cheesiness

Aria Ilsa Herbert was born in April 1st, right on April Fools’ Day. She was a healthy little girl, with the charm of her father and the ability to make everyone adore her from her mother. Strike and Robin had gone to meet their goddaughter at the hospital and the twins kicked the whole time, now that Robin was only four months from her due date and getting hugger. By then, Colin Thomas had been missing for a very long time and Strike and Robin went desperately after any possible lead they got, in vain. Police looked for him now, finally believing it was serious, and London was wrapped up in posters with his face.

            “There has to be something” Robin said frustrated, pacing around their office while caressing her big, 23 week old belly, one evening. It was already dark outside, and they kept trying to find Colin but now, as they had a house to pay and they couldn’t spend months without making anything, they had had to start wrapping up some other cases too, to get an income, which left less time for Colin.

            Strike observed her silently from his desk, mentally going after every lead they had.

            “Take it easy honey” Strike said “you don’t want the babies to stress up in there, Daniel needs calmness to get big like his sister.” He tried to be soft, but Robin wasn’t listening much. The redheaded stood in front of the huge England map they had hung from the whiteboard she had bought, little red magnets put in every city where someone had claimed to have seen Colin or his mother.

            “They’re somewhere out there” Robin whispered, biting her lip impatiently, concern all over her face as she absentmindedly rubbed under her belly bump “they were seen in Leeds, on the weekend, right?”

            “If we say the lady who claims to have seen them truly did see them and not people alike.” Strike nodded.

            “And Liverpool, two weeks ago.” Robin remembered, her fingers following the magnets over the map.

            “Ms Edmonds has family in Scarborough” Strike commented “it seems that they’re in that path, very indirectly, but it would be ridiculous. Police there was reinforced, she’s expected there. She’s managed to hide two months, she’s not that stupid.”

            “So where are they going? This is an island, they can’t hide forever.” Robin sat frustrated on Cormoran’s desk, next to his pens.

            “Well” Strike sighed, leaning forward “this is an island, but still big enough for them to keep moving, and police could spend years without finding them. Children disappear in places like Denmark too and are never found, even though the country’s tinier. Besides, she’s got boats, planes, even road to get outside...”

            “Right” Robin nodded “come on, you found Quine. Okay, he wasn’t moving, but this can’t be this hard. We must be missing something.”

            “Let’s see...” Strike looked at the map “if I wanted for no one to find me, but at the same time be able to hide my children and provide for them, give them a better life, where would I go?” he said to himself mostly.

            “Somewhere where you’d feel safe” Robin reasoned “somewhere where he had a chance at life. Or not, if you’ve gone so mental you don’t even think of the child’s education or future anymore, then you just want to hide in a cave or something.”

            “In any case, somewhere where I could hide, right? Never be found. Start over.”

            “The countryside” Robin said “my uncle has a house in the middle of nowhere in Masham, you’ve seen it. No neighbours, barely no one to walk around there. No one to find you. Like the industrial polygon all abandoned in which you were.”

            “From York to the north it’s all national parks, huge forests, Scotland... plenty of countryside to hide.” Strike said. Robin nodded.

            “It’d make sense... they’re going north for sure.”

            “But if they’re going there” Strike frowned “why deviate all the way to Liverpool? From London it’d make more sense to take the A1, straight to Peterborough, Doncaster, Leeds. Almost no big cities and faster. Why expose themselves to Manchester’s traffic, or Liverpool, Leicester...?”

            “My head is going to explode” Robin sighed looking defeated.

            “We’ve been at this for weeks. We need a break” Strike got up, standing in front of Robin and letting her support her head on his chest, her arms falling around his hips as he stroke his hair.

            “Every minute of break is one minute Colin is away from home, God knows in which state. I can’t relax.” Robin murmured tiredly.

            “We’re going to have to find the way, because we have own children to worry for. Come on, we’re going home.”

            Their house in Hackney was pretty much boxes all over the place. The attic was sold, it didn’t take long time to disarm, and they had moved only the useful furniture to their new house, which ended up being table, sofa, TV, and some stools or chairs, since most of Strike’s furniture had been in poor state for a house so new, where it would call too much the attention. Robin also persuaded Strike to get a new bed, that had already been assembled upstairs, since their bed wasn’t quite big and although that was nice to cuddle, it wouldn’t be so nice when they had two kids wanting to sleep with them. Little by little, it was becoming a home, as Robin was started to put pictures and decorations, and it started to smell of Robin’s perfume, which reminded Strike pleasantly of the time he visited her flat with Matthew and silently dreamt of his own house smelling like that. Sometimes he caught himself humming ‘Jessie’s Girl’ but substituting Jessie’s name for Matthew’s.

            “Knock knock” Strike said letting himself into their en suite bathroom, where he had prepared a bath for Robin and the twins. Robin looked all relaxed and smiled at him, cradling her belly, as he got nude and joined her.

            “I’m huge” Robin chuckled as she moved to let him sit behind her and hug her.

            “You are. Huge and gorgeous. Absolutely stunning. And look at those boobs, I mean...” Strike raised an eyebrow suggestively, joking, and Robin laughed and blushed. Strike put his hands around her big belly too “Hi kiddos...” he immediately felt a kick or two. He had noticed funnily enough every time he talked with them, they seemed to either stop moving, start moving, or kick. As if they were curious about it and didn’t know the proper reaction. It always made Robin chuckle.

            “They’re being little football players, but they like these baths...” Robin commented “we all calm down when daddy spoils us don’t we?” she asked her belly, stroking it “I take your silence as a yes...” Cormoran chuckled, pressing his nose against her hair and absorbing her sweet flowered smell.

            “I’ve been thinking” Strike commented “should we - I don’t know - get married or something?” Robin turned to look at him, surprised, and he shrugged.

            “What? Are you asking me to marry you?”

            “I mean, no, I uh, I consulted Ilsa about whether or not I had to worry about having parental rights over the children, as we aren’t, you know, together in the eyes of law. She said if we put in the birth certificates that I’m their dad, there won’t be a problem, so I know we don’t have to worry about that” Strike explained nervously “but I was thinking that maybe you wanted for us to get registered as common-law partners or, don’t know, maybe get married.” Robin smiled at his nervousness, caressing his chin and kissing him on the cheek.

            “We’ve been officially together for five months baby” Robin said sweetly “a bit early for that, don’t you think?”

            “Yeah, right” Strike kissed her shoulder, hugging her closer “I just want you to know that, well, time doesn’t really mean much for me now, after all that’s happened. What I mean is... I was with Charlotte for fifteen years, since I was twenty, we almost married, we could’ve had a child, she was who I had when I lost my leg. I thought she was the one even if she was all kinds of abuse with me, and I was wrong. And you were with Matthew for about the same time or more, were convinced he was the one, married him. We got together by absolute chance and if we hadn’t, then we’d probably be married to them, parents of their children, still thinking it was the fairy tale, the right one. And we’d be wrong.”

            “Being with someone for the longest time doesn’t mean it won’t end badly, or that you can ever be sure, or that is right.” Robin nodded.

            “Exactly” Strike said “and somehow I know - I just know, as scary as it may be, that you are the one. I can’t be sure, because I thought Charlotte was too, but we rarely fight while with her it was constant, you never make me suffer while she made me age like ten years” Robin laughed lightly, and he smiled “and I asked her to marry me because I thought it was the next logical step, and I loved her. But with you, I don’t know if it’s the next step because socially it’s supposed to be before children, my brain doesn’t tell me ‘marry her because it’s what you should be doing’ but I have the hunch I didn’t have with Charlotte of, ‘marry her because that’s the best thing you could do’. And I love you. I’m so in love with you” Robin looked at her certainly impressed for his spontaneous opening up, and saw he seemed to be immersed in another world, the eyes lost as it was when he was resolving a case in his mind “I know I’d love to spent my life with you three. I know that for the first time in years I’ve stopped trying to save some nuts lady for reasons a therapist would love to analyse, and instead I’m with someone who makes me genuinely happy, who’s strong and powerful and everything she needs to be on her own and doesn’t need me to save her. She’s just has her life handled. And I never want this to end.”

            Robin gulped a sob and rubbed her eyes.

            “Let’s get out of the bath and talk outside, I’m getting cold.” She suggested.

            Once they were in their warm pyjamas, snuggled under the duvet, with Strike hugging Robin like a teddy bear and Robin rubbing his arm soothingly up and down as it rested under her belly, she felt like she had her ideas together.

            “I’m in love with you too, Corm” she said softly “and with this life we’ve created together, and these children, and this home... and life was always sweet in some way, but with you is like... better. Like if you have a house and is nice and great and you love it, but then you visit this other house that makes you feel things that you didn’t miss when you didn’t know they could happen, but that if you leave the house, you miss instantly, and you understand that although you always lived in a good, happy, nice place, it can get even better than you imagined. I got the job of my dreams, and we’re making a difference helping people, and we’re going to be the best parents, and we bought the best house by hit of luck. We’re lucky. And I’m in no hurry, right now, to marry you, because I already feel I’ve got the whole package.” She turned to kiss his forehead, as he rested his chin on her clavicle “It’s not like I don’t want to marry you. Is just that I was planning a wedding a year ago, and so much has happened and changed so fast... and even more soon when double trouble come. That now I just want to sit, chill, relax, and enjoy what I have. I want to take a moment to love my PlayStation 20 before I go to my PlayStation 100.” Strike laughed lightly and even she chuckled at her random metaphor “I love life now, I want to keep changes to a minimum for a while and just settle down with our family and spend as much time with you as I can while loving it, and if that ends in marriage or common-law partnership or whatever, then awesome, I’m sure it’d be incredible, but I’m not going to overwhelm myself with that kind of planning right now. The idea of going through such exhaustion again right now seems unbearable, seriously. When we marry, if we do, I’m just going to take the planning for my wedding to Matthew, pass it to you, and say yes to any change you want.” Strike chuckled, kissing her cheek.

            “You are incredible Robin.” He whispered sleepily “You’re fucking fantastic.”

            “Sh...” Robin could feel herself falling asleep too “don’t curse in front of the children...”

            That night they both fell asleep with a smile.


	21. Looking for Colin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strike and Robin set to look for Colin at other locations and the twins kick...

“We’re here?” Strike asked, waking up. Almost four hours of train to Middlesbrough looking for leads about Colin had finally finished and Strike stirred his neck, sore from sleeping on Robin’s shoulder, looking confused to the rest of the train.

            “We are,” Robin said getting up “come on, let’s get our bags and keep going.”

            It took a long time to reach their hotel in Middlesbrough, but when they did it, it felt like reaching the top of a mountain. It was the end of April and they finally had reasons to believe the next logical step of their investigation about Colin was in Middlesbrough, but Strike refused to have Robin drive around four hours while being so pregnant, and the prize for renting the automatic car Strike would need, for the amount of time they needed, was way higher than just grabbing the train. In the end, Robin had a friend from Yorkshire who was in Middlesbrough for work for a few days and had offered to drive them around if they went when he was there.

            “Let’s go over the plan” Strike suggested as they sat on a coffee after leaving their things in their room “Hedley’s family lives...”

            “In that direction” Robin pointed to a street, and Strike nodded after checking their map quickly “we go there, and ask them about Hedley. See if they know where he is. But police will have asked already.”

            Recently, some photographs had appeared of when Dolores Edmonds did drugs. She used to be in a gang and it was rumoured that he had something with someone from the gang, a way younger boy named Kevin Hedley. Apparently they had been friends since those years, and Strike instantly had a hunch over him and wanted to meet him, but there was no trace of him for months.

            “The key is not what they tell us verbally, but visually. We need to pay attention to the house, any sign that he’s been there or will be there, we need to pay attention to Hedley’s home to know who Hedley is, a good man who would take Colin home if he saw him, or an asshole who’d help Dolores hide him away.” Robin nodded. Her eyes reflected the most absolute concentration.

            “The house will also tell us if a seven year old has been there” Robin commented “so we need to ask indirect stuff like... did you son wanted marriage, a nice house and children? Was your son, Hedley, hardworking?” Strike nodded “That is, of course, if Hedley’s parents open the door.”

            “They did to the police, they should do it to us.” Strike shrugged “If not, we’ll ask around. He seems like the kind of guy everyone knows.”

            “We find Hedley, he might lead us to Dolores and Colin. Hope police finds him if we don’t.”

            “Yeah” Strike nodded “The Hedleys are a family of farmers. They had better times but the economically crisis affected them gravely. With a bit of luck, we can bribe them.”

            “They’re doing a fine investigation so far, we need to catch up.”

            No one opened the door at Hedley’s family home. It seemed like no one had been there in a few days or weeks and the house looked to be very old, and like no one had taken care of it in a very long time, it was very deteriorated.

            “Where did they go? Police talked with them like, a week ago!” Robin was frustrated, pacing around the green area with big trees.

            “This is a clue itself Robin, let’s not get discouraged” Strike smiled calmly at her and looked around “House looks like it belongs to really poor people, but it’s pretty big... Is there any car print?” he asked Robin, who was walking around what seemed the garage.

            “No” Robin shook her head “nor motorbikes. But it’s windy, could’ve moved the soil around. Wait.” Robin squinted looking to the house in front “I saw something move in the window. There’re people living in that house, watching us.”

            “Good call Robin” Strike walked with her to the house in front “Hello?” He knocked the door twice and shortly after, an old woman appeared “Good afternoon. I’m Michael and this is my girlfriend, Linda” he pointed to Robin, who smiled politely “as you can see, she’s very pregnant, and we were looking for a big house, like that one.” He pointed to the house upfront “Do you know if it’s for sale? Seems rather abandoned...”

            “Oh...” the woman nodded and smiled a little “it’s not abandoned. But the Hedleys don’t have much money, maybe they’ll accept a deal if you really like the house.”

            “The Hedleys?” Robin asked imitating a Scarborough accent to Strike’s surprise, and the woman nodded “Great!” Robin grinned at Strike “Do you know where we could find them?”

            “Well, they’re not here now. There was... a ton of press, for some stuff, I don’t know. They left to avoid it.”

            “Oh” Robin seemed disillusioned “crap... you see, we’ve come all the way from Liverpool, exhausting trip. But in Scarborough we met this woman, she told us her Middlesbrough was great place for families, that her daughter Dolores’ boyfriend grew up there and we could find nice houses there. His name was... uh, Martin? Bobby?”

            “Uh, we’re so terrible for names honey...” Strike laughed “but fortunately, she gave us the address, and it was this one.” Strike pointed to the house “She didn’t tell us they were leaving... but she had this thick, Scarborough accent, I may have written the address wrong... Do you know if there’s any Hedley boy who may have a girlfriend from Scarborough, ma’am? Just to check if it’s this house or it’s another one.”

            “Yes” the old lady seemed happy to have social life and happy to be of use, and she smiled kindly “yes, the Hedley’s have a son, he’s in his late twenties, but he’s got a girlfriend from Scarborough. I remember because his mother told me once that his son was going to Scarborough for the holidays to be with his girlfriend.”

            “Wouldn’t you have his number by any chance?” Robin asked “You know, so we could see if he’s coming soon or we should just go back home?” the woman was thoughtful for a moment and then nodded.

            “Yeah, I call him to fix things at my place sometimes. One moment.” The old woman closed the door and reappeared minutes later with a mini book “I don’t have my glasses on...” she passed it to Strike, who pulled out his own tiny notebook from his coat pocket, and wrote down the number. The paper also indicated his name was Kevin. Then Strike stopped a moment, thoughtful.

            “Ms...”

            “Garretson” she finished for him, and he smiled politely.

            “Ms Garretson, would you mind it if we called from your phone? Ours don’t have a signal here, look...” Strike put his cell in plane mode and showed her. She was too old to figure the trick out, and frowned.

            “Oh, that’s weird... don’t worry, you can use my phone.” She let them in the house and led them to the house phone “Here. You’re going to love the house” she said, happily “police is around here a lot lately, you’ll feel so safe.”

            Robin took the phone and made the call.

            “Hi Ms Garretson, did police come again?” a masculine voice asked “just tell them I went on a trip and you don’t know when I’m back... they’re all just trying to discredit me, you know how it is, they go against anyone they can...” he rambled.

            “I’m sorry, I’m not Ms Garretson. I’m Linda” Robin said putting the accent from Scarborough.

            “Is Ms Garretson alright? Are you police?”

            “She’s just fine and I’m not police. I’m pregnant” Robin commented.

            “Oh, okay, listen I have to g...”

            “Wait!” Robin called him “I’m interested in buying your family’s house in Middlesbrough. You see, I've heard that it’s a good place to start a family and my partner and I were looking for a big house and we’re really in love with this place, and when we saw your house all abandoned here we figured, maybe we could offer you money for it? A lot of money.”

            “Uhm uh...” Robin knew instantly Hedley felt attracted to the possibilities of loads of money and he had gulped it “My parents own that house.”

            “They’re not here. Any idea where I could find them?”

            “Yeah, they went to Scotland for a trip I think, Mr Hedley loves haunting and there’s a good place there he loves... Won’t be back for weeks probably.”

            “I see” Robin nodded “would you be able to attend us for them? I’m... well, my twins will be popping out in weeks, we don’t have much time to move.”

            “No” he said “I’m afraid I’m busy.”

            “Maybe I could meet you somewhere? I’ve got to get back to Scarborough, wouldn’t mind deviating a bit. Maybe we could meet in York? Or wherever you want, I don’t mind” Robin said casually. Hearing his doubt, she continued “Look, Mr Hedley. My husband is a very successful man. He’s friends with Jonny Rockeby, that kind of important. We own two properties, and he’s not used to being told no. He’d be making this call himself it if wasn’t because I bet him I could get us a better deal than he did on our last house. So, we’re offering good, big money, I’m talking about... seven figures. This house has all we want, big space, close enough to Scarborough, far enough of big cities so we get some calmness, as we want it to be our holiday house. We already imagined our twins running around this place, is freaking beautiful, and it has the humble countryside vibe that we like. We could even have horses here, which we’d love since well, I’m a big fan of horses, my parents had when I was little too. I’m offering you a lot of money and telling you I don’t care where we have to travel to meet up with you as long as we get a good deal. Don’t you think it’d be a terrible idea to say no?” Robin made sure to sound a bit petulant, and Strike observed, impressed. Ms Garretson looked at them both up and down, probably analysing if they could really have that much money.

            Robin listened to Hedley think for a few seconds, until he gave in.

            “Okay” Hedley said “let’s meet up in Penrith, on Whitehaven’s direction from where you are. Tomorrow at ten at Castle’s park, if that’s good for you. I’ll call my parents in the meantime, let them know. It make take a few months until you can move in there though, my family will have to find somewhere else.”

            “Worth the wait” Robin smiled “see you then, Mr Hedley. It was very nice to meet you.”

            “Yeah, you too. Bye.”

            As they left the street behind on their way back to the hotel and Robin finished telling Strike all about the phone call, Strike couldn’t help but laugh strongly.

            “You’re a damn genius” Strike said. Robin smiled proudly, blushing “if we had mentioned Dolores or the kid, they would’ve closed off, because police probably came already making questions, insinuating Kevin Hedley might’ve kidnapped a boy, and she doesn’t want to believe her neighbours does that so she doesn’t even want to hear about the topic, and he’s probably running away from the accusations, if not with Colin. But she’s keen to help some foreigners friends of the family that’s practically the Hedley’s in laws, find them to buy a house, she knows the Hedleys have economical trouble, after all, that’s probably why Kevin is always so willing to fix stuff at her house, because she pays well. And Hedley knows with that much money he could run away, get a house, anything. Now when we meet him, we’ll get to see for any traces of Colin or Dolores, ask around.”

            “And she’s keen to help her dear neighbours make money while selling his house and leaving, in case they’re bad people she can get them far.” Robin added. Strike looked at her impressed “Strikes 1, police 0, baby.” He laughed and she chuckled “I love being back in the road.”

            “I didn’t know you were so damn competitive.”

            They looked at each other, and smiled. The walk back to the hotel was easy, the town wasn’t that big and it was mostly countryside, a beautiful place to breathe some fresh air for a change.

            “You called me your husband” Strike said suddenly as they sat for a celebratory warm chocolate, that Robin didn’t have forbidden yet.

            “Well, I needed to pull out a whole character out of the blue, came into my mind and seemed a decent idea. He can’t know who we are, at least not yet, or everything blows out of the window, we’re in the newspapers now, TV.” Strike chuckled and nodding.

            “I always knew you were smart, but that was... a whole other level. I’m very impressed.” Robin blushed with an expression of absolute satisfaction and superiority “For one moment there I thought you were going to pull the Rokeby’s son deal.”

            “I thought about it for a split second, but then I figured if he has enough of a brain he’d figure who you are in seconds. Quick Google search is enough.” Strike nodded.

            “I hadn’t thought about him in quite a while. And it’s funny because” Strike took a sip of his chocolate “I hadn’t realised I finally have something in common with him.”

            “What do you mean?” Robin frowned “I’ve seen pictures of him and I’ve seen all there is to see about you” her eyes moved suggestively up and down his body “and there is nothing alike.”

            “I don’t mean physically, I mean fucking a girl and getting her pregnant and having children just like that, no formal compromise, you weren’t even officially divorced yet.” Strike said softly, so she wouldn’t feel as he was saying shit about her. But Robin frowned further.

            “If getting married really means so much to you...”

            “It’s not about it babe” Strike said quickly “we talked about it, it’s totally fine by me how we’ve planned things. I just...” he made a frustrated noise “I hope you know I won’t ever do what he did. I’m not going to knock you up and vanish, nor abandon my children, nor being a negligent father... even if we broke up, I’d want shared custody, I’d want to make them presents at every special occasion remembering all without exception, I... I want to be a father, damn it! A fucking good one.” He rambled, getting a bit worked up and refusing to meet Robin’s gaze.

            She sat on the chair in front of him, leaning back with her hands as if her belly supported on them, teary eyes and a soft smile, contemplating him.

            “Cormoran” she said softly, and he looked at her like if she was a magnet “I never expected any less of you.”

            “Yeah?” Strike looked surprised. Robin nodded, getting up “I thought... since you had Rokeby so easily in mind... I thought...”

            “I’m sure” Robin stood in front of Strike. She looked back to see if anyone was watching, but they were alone in a dimly corner, and started unbuttoning the lower buttons of her button down maternity blouse “you’re going to be” she started revealing her belly “the best daddy ever. They’re very lucky children, Cormoran.” She revealed her whole freckly belly and stopped, stroking his head with one hand. She looked so lovingly at him, he blushed, leaning to kiss her belly and hug her from his seat, and she sniffled loudly to keep her shit together “Damn hormones.” Strike laughed softly against her belly.

            “They’re kicking” Strike commented feeling movement against his cheek, his voice breaking in emotion “I can almost hear them moving.”

            “Say hi to daddy guys...” Robin encouraged, even though every kick badly thrown made her cringe a little. Strike sniffled too, his eyes closed, enjoying the feeling of his children against his face and hand. He couldn’t believe having children could be that beautiful and now he understood Anstis’ excitement, Nick and Ilsa’s insistence to get babies, Lucy’s insistence to be the best mother ever, as she’d tell him.


	22. Penrith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The adventure continues in Penrith

Strike and Robin woke up early in the morning despite their night of passion and also studying the route they’d take the next day to Penrith, and got Robin’s friend to lend them the car, since they considered it could be dangerous to take him with them. The morning was rainy but they left early, paying their hotel stay quickly before they picked up all their things and left. They planned to get on a train to London as fast as possible after that, even if they had to go overnight, Robin’s friend would drive them to the closest train station when they were back in Penrith.

            “Are you sure you’re up to so much driving?” Strike asked concerned as they sat in the car “One hour there, one hour back, add the meeting with Hedley, plus the trip back to London, four hours. I don’t want you to exhaust yourself.”

            “I’ll be fine” Robin nodded completely awake, gripping the wheel with deep concentration after she had moved the seat to create enough distance for her belly while still being able to reach everything with her hands “this was our only option, Peter couldn’t come, we don’t know how dangerous this guy could get when he push the right buttons.”

            “That’s right” Strike nodded “I’ll get a car before the kids are born, promise.”

            “Unless you want me to drive myself to the hospital while having contractions.” Robin joked, and they laughed softly.

            “By the way Robin” Strike breathed deeply “you can’t come with me either. You need to stay in the car, or even better, somewhere like a restaurant where you don’t call attention and at the same time, is safe enough.” He prepared for an angry Robin that never came.

            “You’re right” Robin surprised him.

            “What?”

            “You’re right” Robin repeated “I was just thinking about it. You can handle yourself and that guy just fine, and I’m not getting the twins anywhere near him, Daniel’s got enough as it is and Sophie seems very chill to bother her either. I saw there was a fine supermarket there and I could use some bigger maternity clothes and besides, I could buy your sister her birthday present, we still haven’t got a thing so I’ll entertain myself there. But what if you’re in trouble?”

            “I’ll call.”

            “You might not be able to” Robin pursed her lips thoughtful, her eyes on the road as her hand moved to change speed “I’ve got it, get my purse.”

            Strike stirred to grab Robin’s small black purse from the backseat, and opened it. There was a wallet, a cell phone, a box of tissues, a little notebook, some makeup, a box of extra-large condoms (Strike blushed hard), period pads...

            “Why in hell you have pads here? Not like you’re going to have your period suddenly.” Strike frowned curious.

            “I’m pregnant, sometimes a tiny drop escapes when... well... can’t go that fast to the bathroom...” Robin blushed. Strike’s eyebrows raised in incredulity.

            “I can no longer un-hear, that, right?” Robin rolled her eyes and palmed his thigh impatiently.

            “Grab the rape alarm you gave me. That damn thing you put inside almost left me blind, if something goes wrong it’ll be a good way to earn yourself the time to call me and yell for help in case someone’s around, I won’t be too far.”

            “That’s actually genius” Strike found the alarm in the mess of things in there “Jesus Robin, you could prove your smartness just by showing this purse, it seriously impresses me how you can find things here as fast as you usually do...”

            “Comes with being perfect, you know.” Robin joked, laughing. She felt in a really good mood now that they finally had a good lead after months of frustration.

            “What if you need help?” Strike asked.

            “I’ll be in a public place” Robin said “nothing will happen. No one knows me there.” She could feel Strike wasn’t convinced and she sighed “I’ll throw the classic kick in the balls. I may be pregnant, but I still can’t fight. And he better not try make a pregnant lady pissed off.”

            “Yeah, been there” Strike murmured, remembering clearly the night Robin had thrown a hormonal tantrum because her ankles were ‘too fat’ for her favourite shoes and had yelled at his inconvenient laughter ‘you don’t get it, you asshole! Look at me, I’m a whale and it’s all your fault!’ before crumbling down in sobs and spending a weekend being extra attentive towards Strike from how guilty she felt.

            Penrith was bigger than Strike thought, and the rain had cleared there. They got there half an hour before time and Robin parked at a public parking for extra safety. Then they kissed see-you-later and Robin went shopping while he made his way to the park. There was a long road decorated with some big trees, and then a huge park. He had a photograph of Hedley to identify him and played with the fact that he wasn’t expecting him but a ‘Linda’ that Robin had texted him from a payphone they got, was ‘brunette, gray eyes, tall and very pregnant’. Just in case, Robin had put on a blonde wig and so many clothes on she was sweating but her belly was pretty hidden, and was going full undercover as to avoid being recognized.

            Robin and Hedley had agreed to meet next to some statue that was entering the park. Strike saw it was a pretty lonely area, and only Hedley stood there. Strike wore a scarf where he hid most of his face, fake glasses, his heard brushed back with tons of product and a different coat from usual so he wasn’t recognized easily from afar, which would be too fast for their plan.

            “Hello Mr Hedley, I’m Linda’s husband, Jake.” Strike said when he was near Hedley, who turned around to look at him, surprised.

            “Where’s Linda?” Hedley asked, frowning at his appearance.

            “She felt unwell last minute, you know, with her pregnancy. Twins. Double kicking all the time.” Strike invented “But she was very sad to miss the opportunity to prove her talent with deals.” Strike chuckled.

            Kevin Hedley was a short, very young man, broad but really thin, pale face with light blonde beard, blonde hair all messy. He had brown eyes and a split lip, and for some weird reason, he was wearing gloves. Probably as weird as Strike wearing an asphyxiating scarf that was making him sweat. Hedley looked at him with a face of stupidity and nodded slowly.

            “I see. Let’s sit there.” Hedley pointed to a bench, were they sat “You’re not the police right? Uncover your face, I want to see you clearly.” Strike nodded.

            “Don’t worry boy, I promise I’m not police. Although I don’t know why they’d be looking for you.” Strike played naive and retired his glasses and scarf. The moment Hedley saw who he was, Strike had to physically restrain him so he wouldn’t leave, and push him through some bushes to a more isolated area. Hedley turned to punch him and Strike grabbed his fist before it landed on his face and grabbed him forcefully from the neck of his shirt, lifting him up “Don’t, or you won’t make it out of here alive.” He added, seeing he was about to yell.

            “You’re Strike! The private detective, saw it all on the TV!” he said, scared.

            “Then you’ve seen I’m a Sergeant and I don’t let go a case unresolved. I’ve caught murderers bigger and way more dangerous than you, and knocked them out with my bare hands. Don’t tempt me.” Strike said fiercely “Tell me where Colin Thomas is boy, or I’ll swear I’ll put you through so much pain you’ll beg to be killed.”

            “I don’t know where he is, I swear...”

            “So you know who I’m talking about.”

            “Yeah” Kevin nodded “he’s all over the news, the missing boy.” Strike nodded.

            “Exactly” Strike said “he’s been missing for months and his father misses him. Now unless you want yours to miss you that much too, you’re going to start talking. I want to know all you know about Dolores Edmonds and Colin and if you try to lie, I’ll know and I will kill you, I don’t care how young you are. I’m going to be a father and I’m damn sensitive about children disappearing and very sick of not having found him yet.”

            “Yeah” Kevin was nervous and sweating cold now “yeah, Dolores. We were friends, when we did drugs, back in the day. Years ago. Then she quit and she married and got Colin and, I’ve seen them a few times, but I don’t know where they are. I’m looking for them too I’m... I’m worried about them. We were good friends.”

            “Only that?”

            “She was way older than me man, ew!” he did a face of disgust “When she quit, she made me quit, she said I was too young... she convinced me. I thought she was pretty awesome. Quit the band, worked at my father’s farm. He was happy I quit. I rebuilt my life, you know? I’m clean now.”

            “Then why are you running away?”

            “Because police suspects of me and I don’t want them to ruin my life!” he said “I got a job here for now, low level, police won’t suspect I’m here. Please don’t tell them.”

            “Don’t give me reasons.” Strike limited to say, letting him drop to the floor when his arms got tired from holding him in the air from the neck of his now too big shirt.

            “I swear I’d never hurt them” the boy says “I really care for them. She took so much care of me, she even tutored me so I could finish some education after she got me out of the gang and she also spent hours teaching me stuff while we were in the gang, and her son’s a good boy. After the gang, Dolores refused to meet at my house, we’d met somewhere else, and I got to know the boy well.”

            “Go. Run, and I better not see you in trouble. And Kevin” Strike softened up “stay away from drugs. Do your life good like she taught you. And if police arrests you, call me and I’ll either prove your innocent or kill you myself if you hurt them.”

            “Mr Strike” Kevin said when he had run a few meters “I’ll call you if I find them. Call me if you do?”

            “Sure.” Strike accepted with a nod.


	23. Detective parents

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fic is completely written so the sooner the response comes, the more encouraged I'll be to give it to you ;) (not bribing you at all, what you saying...)

Night came and Strike was preparing dinner as Robin slept peacefully on the sofa. She had passed out the minute she sat there when they arrived, and Strike had tucked her in. It was Lucy’s birthday so Strike had invited her and Greg over, the kids staying with some friends that night, and Lucy had wanted for Ilsa and Nick to come with little Aria, so they were coming too. Strike figured it’d be nice to see their friends after such a long, frustrating, day, and in the meantime he was trying to piece their puzzle of a case together while cooking. Robin and him had spent the whole way back trying to come up with theories, but so far, nothing really acceptable. The doorbell rang and he rushed to open, kicking their suitcase aside.

            “Hi!” Strike smiled at their guests.

            “We brought wine!” Ilsa said hugging him.

            “How’s my goddaughter?”

            “Here, for practice.” Nick, who had her in his arms, passed it on to Strike, who took her as if she was some alien, but then held her closely.

            “Where’s my sister?” Lucy asked as Strike shook Greg’s hand.

            “Sleeping on the sofa, so don’t make much noise. We just came back like an hour ago. And happy birthday, Robin got you this from us both.” He kissed her on the cheek and took a box from on top of the suitcase and handed it to her.

            “Aw, you didn’t have to” Lucy smiled opening it to see it was a book she had been wanting for days “oh my God she remembered! I love this author.”

            “Totally addicted” Greg chuckled at his wife.

            “Guys, quiet” Ilsa said as they tiptoed their way into the living room, seeing only the kitchen light was on and Robin was effectively passed out.

            “I’ll take care of that” Strike returned Aria to her parents and walked to Robin and rubbed her shoulder softly.

            “What” Robin moaned.

            “They’re here, don’t you want to sleep in bed?” he suggested. He hadn’t even finished the sentence before she was asleep again, so he sighed and lifted her bride style with a grunt. He had never done that since he lost his leg, but he was pleased to see he didn’t immediately feel like dying at her 176 pounds, twenty more than her pre-pregnancy usual.

            “Stick maybe you shouldn’t...” Lucy started, but Strike shut her up with a glance as Robin moved to put an arm around his neck instinctively and made herself comfortable.

            Strike lifted her upstairs and tucked her in bed, changing her into her pyjamas. When he went back downstairs he saw Nick was already watching dinner as the girls drank wine on the kitchen island.

            “Pour me a glass please” Strike asked. Aria slept in her car seat on the floor nearby.

            “House’s looking great” Ilsa commented.

            “Robin’s job mostly. You should’ve seen her house with Matt, all homey and smelling nice. I couldn’t do that job if I tried.” Strike shrugged.

            “So how did it go?” Lucy asked “If you can reveal some.”

            “Well” Strike sighed “we thought we had an awesome lead, came back home totally confused. We were sure this twenty something year old boy was in contact with Colin, but he’s as worried about them as we are.”

            “Or lied” Nick suggested.

            “No” Strike shook his head “I was super aggressive scary guy with him, got in my nerve by trying to punch me the fucker. He almost peed his pants, I saw him. Robin wasn’t there to calm my nerves, although I’m pretty sure she would’ve gone full mother lion and ripped his throat off.”

            “So back to zero” Lucy said.

            “Maybe not zero, but we’re pretty lost and frustrated. It’s as if we could touch the answer, as if it was floating in our damn faces and we can’t see it. We’ve been so busy just now Robin got some diapers, we have close to nothing for the twins, and we kept talking about going in big to the shopping centre to celebrate when Colin was found but at this rhythm...” Strike shrugged.

            “Hey, you guys will find him” Lucy reassured “you always do.”

            “She’s right” Greg said coming back from the bathroom “the Landry case was probably harder, and the thing with the writer was quite tricky.”

            “I guess, yeah. We just never had the pressure of someone’s life on hold, everyone was dead already. And it’s damn hard to see that father come into the office every day for news to have to tell him we’re clueless, while he sees Robin’s belly grow every week, our babies safe in there. Being parents is going to kill our business at this rhythm, it’s impossible to keep the shit together and get zero involved when there’re children.”

            “Now you understand why I’m a maniac.” Lucy joked with a chuckle.

            “I don’t know how you did it” Robin entered the living room with a chuckle, her sleeping robe on “but you impressed me, Mr Strike.” Strike chuckled giving her a kiss.

            “Happy birthday girl!” Robin and Lucy had gotten really close -they kind of got well since day one- and Robin hurried to hug her “hope you had an awesome day today.”

            “Thanks, I loved the gift, you’re the sweetest.” Lucy smiled.

            After saying hi to everyone, Robin was quick to aww at her goddaughter and then they sat for dinner.

            “How was that nap?” Lucy asked Robin as they sat together.

            “A pleasure until one of these tiny boxers hit right in the lungs” Robin said in a good mood nevertheless “got me wide awake. Their father is just going to train them in boxing before they learn to talk.”

            “Well at least we know they’re strong” Strike commented “with a bit of luck Daniel is who woke you up tonight.”

            “Still worried about him?” Nick asked.

            “Until he’s born and we see he’s perfectly fine with our own eyes, I’m afraid” Robin sighed “I’ve gotten twenty pounds bigger and it seems Sophie is most of it, not sharing much with her brother.”

            “Maybe he wouldn’t seem so incredibly tiny if his huge sister wasn’t right next to compare in the ultrasounds.” Strike explained.

            “Yeah, I’m dreading her birth a little, that’s going to hurt more than when I had to get surgery in my arm.” Robin grimaced.

            “Aw sweetie, I guarantee is way worse than that” Ilsa smiled knowingly at her “but hey, it’s all worth it.”

            “Yup, did it three times myself” Lucy tranquilized “is better if you don’t pre condition yourself to think it’s going to hurt like hell.”

            “Thank God the case has me too busy to think much of it. These past couple months passed in a blur.” Robin commented “I think I’ve got an idea though” she added looking at Strike “about the case. I got a hunch and researched before coming downstairs, got in some of those places where it’s supposedly illegal to get” she said it calmly and Strike stopped eating just to frown at her “and acceded Mr Thomas’ medical records. He got treated for infertility years ago, before Colin was born, and at the end was declared infertile. Colin’s not his and he’s not adopted, I checked that.”

            “Holly shit Robin that’s great!” Strike got enthusiastic “Dolores could’ve gone for the dad, and maybe...” he felt the light bulb turn on in his brain and grabbed his cell quickly calling Mr Thomas “Mr Thomas, good night it’s Strike, the Private Detective. Sorry to bother you this late but my partner and I were just thinking about your son and I got a question for you if that’s alright? Yeah... okay, so I’d like to know, did your wife have any fertility treatments for Colin?” Strike pulled a pen from a drawer in a bookshelf and started writing on his napkin while listening “I understand and I was wondering, did you marry before or after he was born? Alright good... just a couple more questions...” he kept annotating the answers. Robin observed with a half frown of concentration and admiration.

            “Ask him if she got pregnant while being in the drug gang, right after, or much later” Robin chimed in. Strike nodded, making the question to Mr Thomas.

            “Thank you Mr Thomas, so she quit the moment she found out.” Strike nodded for himself “A last question if that’s alright? Yeah, thanks... do you or your wife have many adult male friends? Someone Dolores was particularly close with, or maybe Colin? Someone who knew her really good and could help maybe?” he tried to dissimulate the intentions of his questioning “Okay, good... and would you happen to know yours, hers or his blood type? Awesome, great... no, we just came back today from a couple days in North England doing some research about Colin and interrogating some leads, but I think we’ve done some advance okay? Don’t lose hope, I feel we’re almost there. Any day now, they’ll appear, I promise. Thank you... yeah, yeah, she’s due in August, all good so far. Thank you. Goodnight Mr Thomas.” He hung up the phone and looked at Robin with a satisfied smile.

            “So?”

            “Colin Thomas will be back home before those are born” Strike answered pointing to Robin’s belly “that’s a promise.”

            “You seem very confident” Robin chuckled at his enthusiasm.

            “Colin’s not biologically the son of Mr Thomas, we know that, and we know that Mr Thomas doesn’t know because if he knew he would’ve told us right away because it’s the first place to suspect, and it isn’t even in the info Anstis gave us.” Strike explained. Their friends and family observed intrigued, having never witnessed the resolving process before “The only people that knows as far as we’re concerned are us and Dolores. But she was Mr Thomas’ wife while being in the gang, and he told me he was pressuring her to leave the gang, they were trying to start a family, it wasn’t working, and Mr Thomas thought it was because even though Edmonds no longer did drugs, she was surrounded by druggies and her body stressed or something. But she wasn’t leaving the gang because once you go in, is hard as fuck for them to let you go and trust you won’t go talking too much. So at the end, she had to leave it in a bad vibe with the rest of the gang, took Kevin with her to make sure he got out of that shit, protected him.”

            “Right...” Robin nodded.

            “Two months after she left, she told Mr Thomas she was pregnant. And four months later Colin was born, premature. Now, the three of them are A+, so we know that if Mr Thomas didn’t get Dolores pregnant, she cheated on him and got pregnant with someone else whose blood type was, biggest chance, A.”

            “The most common one Cormoran, that reduces things to... three quarters of the world?” Robin looked incredulous.

            “Not if we only search in the group of men Dolores was the closest with during that time” Strike said, and Robin finally seemed to get it, and got excited slapping the table “according to Mr Thomas, she went from the gang home every day. According to Anstis, in the gang we have Kevin, a couple men more, and five women. So it’s one of three. And Kevin said she used to tutor him while they were in and then later out of the gang, got him some education. According to Thomas he was the only one she kept in touch with after the gang, the only one she introduced Colin to, they used to play together.”

            “So” Robin looked thoughtful “you think Kevin found out Colin was his and, since Mr Thomas would flip, he just took Dolores and Colin to start over in that place in the middle of nowhere? That he lied when he seemed disgusted to the idea of having sex with someone way older and when he said he was trying to find them too, and they’re there and hidden?”

            “Yeah... that’s the only part where I’m not that convinced. He couldn’t have lied to my face, I’d say he was scared shitless... unless he’s an incredible actor.”

            “Well” Robin sighed, the excitement vanishing “but I agree with you. Is either him or the two other men, we can investigate them find them. Maybe there’s some story we don’t know. Because what is sure a failed theory is that Mr Thomas found out the truth and put this whole show together to steal the kid from his mother, police and us already checked him a hundred times and he couldn’t have done it right?” Strike nodded thoughtful.

            “Well” Nick rose the bottle of wine “another cup may help relax the brain?”


	24. Confession night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unfortunate comment on Nick's side leads to a big fight between Robin and Strike over how much of a disgrace paternity is for him. Then, Lucy opens up about her true feelings about her mother.

Despite how tired they were, Strike and Robin recognized their own need to disconnect from work a little, and soon everyone was pretty drunk except Robin, who was still living a drunk effect from having everyone be pretty far gone around her and from laughing so much. Greg and Lucy told some funny anecdotes about the children and Ilsa and Nick were talking about their most disgusting baby stories so far, and soon the night turned a bit karaoke night. Nick had settled Aria on Strike and Robin’s bed surrounded by pillows and they were monitoring her with a baby monitor, and Lucy had turned the music up on Strike and Robin’s TV’s music channel and they were dancing and singing stupidly, heavily drunk.

            “God I need a minute” Strike laughed drunkenly sitting on the sofa. He was never a dancer, never a singer, but Lucy had gotten for her birthday from Greg a music disc of her mother’s favourite rock music as a child, all the rock successes of the time of Strike and Lucy’s childhood. It was the music they grew up with and sang as children and loved the most, and he couldn’t help it, even less after his fifth big beer. Robin couldn’t help but fall more in love with him, discovering a whole unknown side of him. He didn’t move that well with the leg, but he had a beautiful voice and it was both a hilarious and tender scene when he and Lucy sang along to the songs they knew, remembering the little good times they had back then “that’s a damn good present Greg!”

            “Oh, now that we mention presents” Nick face palmed “I just remembered! I bought something for you Corm weeks ago and completely forgot it at home, let me go get it!” he came a few minutes later and gave Cormoran a big book, whose title was ‘Fathering for Dummies’. Strike laughed loudly at that “This is genius, Corm” Nick grinned drunkenly “Ilsa got me one when she found out she was expecting, and so far it has saved my life like a hundred times. Everything’s in there, how to change diapers, how to calm them when they’re teething, even which foods give them diarrhoea at certain ages. Is fucking golden man, finally, the guide for parenting our parents complained about not having.”

            “This is actually pretty good! Thanks man, I’ll certainly need it” Strike smiled excitedly.

            “Yeah, I remember how reticent you were to having children, always leaving the girls the minute they insinuated it, during your whole life,” Nick laughed. He was really drunk “remember when you told me the one thing Charlotte had is that she was as sure as you about never wanting children? And now look at you, twining!” Strike’s laughter died the moment he caught Robin’s frown at him. She had been engrossed dancing with the girls and he thought between that and the loud music, she hadn’t heard a word of that loud secret she had never known. Of course she knew he wasn’t the best with kids and he had problems feeling comfortable around them and knowing how to entertain them, and she knew he didn’t get all excited every time they saw a baby, but he had gotten all excited about their twins the minute she told him, and also with Aria, and plus, she had seen him play soldiers with the nephews, she wouldn’t have expected him to be breaking up with all his girlfriends through his whole life the minute they insinuated to want children. She heard perfectly well. It wasn’t just some thought of a man in his twenties or teens, what Nick meant Strike had it clear his whole life, up until she was pregnant as far as they were concerned. So Strike hated the idea of parenting, deep inside.

            Robin made these conclusions in two seconds, and her whole good mood vanished. Suddenly there was nothing of Strike’s sweet words during their time in North England about not wanting to be like Rokeby and wanting to be the best dad. Nor the sweet little gifts for the kids he had bought and surprised her with every now and then. Nor nothing else. He was only pretending for her, sacrificing because he loved her too much to say no, and inside was cringing at the idea of having children. Her hormones went all over the place and she found herself boiling before Strike even had the chance of explain.

            “Lucy, turn the music off please” Robin said stern. Lucy noticed the tone and did so immediately, looking at her worriedly. She was glaring at Strike, who sat only a couple steps in front of her on the sofa, and he looked at her with genuine fear she wasn’t used on seeing on her brother. Nick seemed to have realised he had fucked up and was looking at Robin, pale.

            “What’s going on?” Lucy asked fearfully. Greg and Ilsa breathed the tension and stopped talking between them turning with curious looks.

            “Strike’s what’s going on” Robin said, her eyes tearful. Her hormones were about to take the best of her self control, and she felt her rage coming. Her voice was in a cold tone that Strike had never heard and that froze his blood instantly. Nick could almost swear he felt his balls shrink a little. Robin put her hands on her hips and glared at her boyfriend with eyes that could burn the sofa “so that’s what was going on all this time uh? You hate the idea of being a dad, you’ve hated it all your life!”

            “Robin, that’s not...” Strike started calmly, but Robin shut him up with a hand gesture of stop.

            “Is that true Cormoran? You broke up with any girlfriend who’d insinuate wanting children?” Robin asked.

            “Well, yes but...”

            “Did you still not want children at all before you knew I was pregnant?” Robin asked.

            “Robin, you’re getting things out of proportion...”

            “Just answer, yes or no!” Robin interrupted rising her voice. Ilsa was thankful Aria was upstairs and both the master bedroom and the living room were closed. She had already checked the music barely was audible there, so less Robin’s yelling.

            “Yes!” Strike sighed “Yes, I hated the idea of being a father, I used to, my whole life, but it’s not what you t...” before he could finish the sentence, Robin had slapped him soundly across the face, so hard, his face turned to the side and his cheek got red. It was the first time neither of them put a hand on the other and Robin felt a tear slid down her cheek, and she muffled a sob with a hand the moment she slapped him. She felt her heartbeat speeding, and Strike, for one second, wasn’t even sure what had happened and was speechless. Their guests froze, a few jaws dropping.

            “Robin” Lucy cut the silence with a stern, almost pissed off voice, and carefully put a hand on Robin’s shoulder, pushing her back softly “this is no way of resolving an issue. Don’t you put a hand on my brother again or we’ll have a problem, you and I, okay?” Robin barely heard her but made one step back, too busy glaring at Strike, who slowly reacted looking down and licking the splitting lip wound Robin had caused. He had flashbacks of Charlotte’s abuse right away and wasn’t ready to look at Robin.

            “Fuck, Robin...” Nick was nervous “forgive me, I’m an asshole, I shouldn’t have said... this is all a big misunderstanding, I told the story wrong, Corm, explain...”

            “No, thank you Nick” Robin’s voice sounded now defeated and low, even somewhat broken, as she sniffled again “at least someone said the truth. This one has had no problem lying to my face for almost five fucking months.” They were already in the first week of May. Another tear left Robin’s eye and she brought her hands to her belly, feeling the need to protect the babies from the enormous pain she was feeling inside. The man she trusted the most. She couldn’t believe it “Where you just going to keep playing pretend uh?” she snapped at Strike “Keep pretending all that excitement... all that talk about marriage and not wanting to be like your father, pure hot air, in the end, you’re just like your father, making women dream of sunshine and vanishing when they’re born!”

            There were a few seconds of silence and Strike gulped a sob. He felt all kinds of betrayed and hurt that Robin would jump so easily to such terrible conclusions and call him such shit and liar without stopping five minutes to think or let him explain, and it angered him almost as much as it killed him. But he had enough. He looked up at Robin with tearful eyes, hating all he saw in her eyes.

            “I’ll spend the night at the office.” He said, trying his best to keep his voice even and calm. Robin breathed deeply and looked down, and he got up and walked past her to exit the living room. Then, she felt kicking against her hands on her belly, and it was like snapping out. She wouldn’t live Leda’s life. She wouldn’t stand there doing nothing while their father walked out of their lives. So she looked up, took a breath to collect herself and turned around, looking angrily at Strike.

            “If you leave this room, we’re done. And I mean, fully done. You can even say goodbye to your job and your house because I’ll make sure you lose both.” She threatened angrily. Strike stopped short, her words reaching him like knives. It took all in him not to get furious to the point of yelling, because he wouldn’t be that man. He wouldn’t scare his children and girlfriend like Whittaker or Rokeby did with his family. He refused, no matter how pissed he felt.

            Nick lost all the colour in his face at once and Ilsa walked to him, motioning for them to sit down. Lucy and Greg joined them in the sofa, Lucy supporting her face on her hands, not wanting to see the scene anymore. She didn’t want to see Strike pull out his Rokeby DNA and lose it yelling Robin and she was sure it was going to happen.

            Truth was, Strike didn’t know what to do. He was afraid to even turn around. But then he caught a glimpse of his favourite children’s book on a bookshelf, Philippa Pearce’s ‘A dog so small’, that Lucy had gifted them for the twins. Seeing that book in the shelf, he couldn’t let this go away. He needed to make an effort, stop Robin before she accidentally destroyed their kids’ lives and their own, pulling them apart with things that weren’t truth. He wouldn’t let the woman he loved think so low of her. Either. He turned around slowly and looked straight at her, serious and more collected.

            “Are you done now?” he asked Robin, who wasn’t expecting that.

            “What?”

            “Are you done saying shit that it’s not true of your children’s father, of the man you claim to love so much, a man you should know way better than what you just showed?” Strike asked calmly, a little bit of blood still in the corner of his mouth. Robin was speechless, opened her mouth but no sound came “The way I see her we have two options here Robin, one, you let your hormones get out of fucking control, keep building this grotesque story in your mind about me, and I leave, we never see each other again, I won’t even care about living on the street without a job or a place to fall dead. Or, we could just calm down, and you let me explain the truth. Your choice.”

            Robin stood there completely lost, losing concentration on the argument as their babies seemed to get a bit revolved in there.

            “We could sit down and relax and we’re here to mediate” Ilsa offered, with his lawyer diplomacy. Robin nodded thinking sitting down was what she needed, and turned around. Ilsa offered her the seat next to her and she took it. Strike was too nervous to sit, but his leg was killing him at this point so he sat next to his sister and nonchalantly removed his prosthesis, supporting it on the coffee table. Relief washed over instantly.

            “Here” Lucy, a prepared mother, took a tissue out of his pocked and gave it to Strike.

            “Thanks.” He cleaned his lip and looked at Robin, who sat across from of him as their sofa made a big ‘u’ shape, their friends in the middle, and supported her chin on her hand, elbow on the arm of the sofa as her other arm hugged her belly. She looked down and Strike observed she was doing the short deep breathes she did when it hurt too much because the kids got rebellious. She said it calmed them down “Are you okay Robin?”

            “As if you cared” Robin grumbled resentfully. Strike thought it was almost funny, but sighed. If he wanted for everyone to feel better, he’d have to say the things he had never said to a single soul in his whole life. And he wasn’t dying for it.

            “Of course I care, silly” he said kindly “I care more about you and them than about myself, and you’ll have to believe me in this. I’m in love with them. And I loved them since the moment I knew they existed.” Robin shrugged looking aside and he sighed in defeat “Nick is right. I said those things, but this is still a big misunderstanding. Yeah, I’ve never wanted children, I can’t exactly hide it, can I? The idea of fatherhood was just... never quite attractive to me. So there was this girl before Charlotte, Tracey. All was good, six nice months, then she started talking about marriage and children and I broke things up. It happened to a couple girls more before Charlotte. And then I met Charlotte and she didn’t want children at all, so I thought it was awesome, we both sat awkwardly at my nephew’s birthday parties, we both weren’t particularly thrilled about those, and when Nick and Ilsa insisted on having children, I’d make fun of them lightly with comments such as ‘what do you want them for? They just drool and poop all over you’. Even when Richard Anstis back at the army got a child, and made me his godfather, I wasn’t that excited, I was happy for him because I saw he was thrilled, but that was it.”

            “You’re not fixing it.” Lucy whispered to him. Strike rolled his eyes.

            “What I mean is that, that’s past. People change. And I also never had someone I truly would want children with, Charlotte would’ve been a danger of a mother, for God’s sakes. You should understand that, because you always wanted children but then when you were married to Matthew and he tried, you made excuses. You know one can want something all their life and then someone else comes and suddenly you don’t want those things anymore, you want something different. And I wanted something different when it came to you. You’re different, so different, from anyone else I’ve ever dated. You’re the only one these folks like to begin with, you think my sister drank wine while laughing and chatting with all of them? No! Only with you. You think I’d move in with any of my girlfriends just like that? No, I accepted living with Charlotte after years together and only because I had just lost my leg and I needed help for everything until I learned to manage myself, and that was the only time. You are the only person I’ve ever loved that wasn’t completely crazy, or an abusive, or a bad person at heart.” Strike explained, a bit uncomfortable. He would’ve rather talk privately with Robin, but he was also almost hundred percent sure that if they had been alone that night, his ass would already be on the street, and he didn’t trust that couldn’t happen if their friends left now “So yeah. When it came to you, I suddenly wanted the whole package too. I wanted a nice house like my sister has in Bromley, I wanted to play soldiers with my own offspring, and I wanted cheesy dates. I’m thirty-seven I thought it was now or never, I’m tired, honestly, exhausted, of living in an ugly, microscopic, dirty attic, always worried about money, with a life consistent on drinking too much, eating too much take out and fast food, sleeping with the first pretty girl who felt curious about my leg or thought I was some rich, brave, war hero with a famous father who sure would pay him a mansion, to have sex with me, and helping couples divorce, during the day because I can’t believe people cheat this much these days, but it kept my business afloat enough for me to not be a complete homeless by the time you arrived. Fuck, I hate admitting that my sister was right for ages being disappointed on me for the life I chose, when we all know I could’ve done better, I could’ve graduated university, found a proper job that paid the rent, gotten a nice girlfriend and a nice house, and I would still have both legs. Maybe I would’ve even gotten to leave Charlotte way sooner.” Robin looked at him a little, like a scared cat under a sofa “And I hate, that I couldn’t do those things on my own, that I didn’t realise sooner and by myself and did something better with my life, and wasted away my youth. I hate that I was that cliché to need someone to come into my life and show me what a real, nice life, is like and make me do things right for once. But now... I want that. I want my second chance at life with you and the twins, and I believe this could be awesome for real, I’m not pretending or lying. I’d never lie to you. I genuinely want this, for real. I don’t even want to try to imagine my life without you and our children Robin. I meant everything I told you, I’d never do what Rokeby did. I’d throw myself to the Thames rather than failing you and the twins.”

            There was an awkward silence in which Robin cried silently and Ilsa tried to calm her down by putting an arm around her shoulders and letting her cry on her shoulder. She pressed her lips to Robin’s head like a big sister.

            “Hey, calm down sweetie...” Ilsa said softly, affectionately “if it serves of anything... I know that asshole, we’re practically siblings, and I know who he is and who he is not and he would never, ever, fuck things up with you and the twins on purpose. I know he’s not lying. He’d never.”

            “Then” Robin sobbed out, and Lucy, who seemed to be slowly forgiving her for slapping her brother, handed her a tissue, in which she blew her noise loudly, and sniffled “then why didn’t you want to be a father if you don’t hate children?” Strike laughed softly and shrugged. Then he got serious. There went his biggest secret, throwing it all through the window.

            “Because I thought it was cruel to bring children into this world.” Strike answered. Robin looked up at him, straightening in her seat, her eyes swollen.

            “You what?”

            “I don’t hate children, nor babies. I care so much about them, in fact, that I refused to be so selfish to bring any into the vision of life I had just to make me happy when later I was going to die and leave them alone in a miserable world just because I wanted them like who wants a dog back in the day.” Strike said serious “You have to understand Robin... you... you have this idea of childhood living in the countryside, always going to the same school and having a steady group of friends, your parents with their super incredible house, your Uncle Edwin’s horses for you to entertain yourself for hours, and the cars, dating the most popular boy in high school and having the steady, perfect life until what happened in university. But that was your childhood, and it was great, and it was sweet, at least for the most part right? And even after what happened, you still managed to get back on track eventually, get your fighting abilities and move to London, to a perfect house with the perfect man, all nice and warm, and then the job of your life eventually. I’m not saying there weren’t very shitty, terrible times, but you still had that, and I love that you did, and I love to think that maybe that’s what our children can have, because it’s my biggest reason to believe I’m not being an awful person by having them.” Strike said softly. Robin frowned lightly, thoughtful, her eyes glued at him but no longer all angry and loveless.

            “Corm and I had things pretty different” Lucy whispered, her own eyes teary “the most decent life I’ve had in my childhood was when living with Uncle Ted and Aunt Joan in St. Mawes. If it wasn’t for those years, I probably wouldn’t have wanted children either and wouldn’t be that different from Stick.” Strike nodded leaning back on his chair and putting a hand on his sister’s knee, rubbing circles with her thumb. Greg put an arm around his wife “You never ever accepted talking about any of that.” Lucy added softly, looking at Strike without resentment.

            “Because it hurts too much.” Strike sighed “Because you were little, but I was a couple years older and I was more conscious of things at times that you were too young to notice. Because I was responsible of you and then I was responsible of mom, and you left and if I had done it too I bet things would’ve been much better, and I’d have two legs, but I couldn’t leave her with that son of a bitch. I wouldn’t have let you stay either, I knew you couldn’t be there a second more. If I ever did boxing it wasn’t because I was an aggressive person, but because I knew either there was someone ready to break some bones in the excuse of a home we lived in, or one day one of you would get seriously hurt by some of mom’s jerks, as it finally happened the second I wasn’t there. I left a fucking year and a half, she said don’t worry Corm, everything will be fine, and then next I knew we had a brother and our mother was dead and that asshole was free.” He breathed deeply to keep his emotions in check. He didn’t want to crumble too, the atmosphere of party had already been killed and at 2AM, they had sobered up in a moment and were exhausted and depressed. Memorable party.

            “How could she be so fucking irresponsible.” Lucy snapped as Strike had never seen her, between grilled teeth, shaking her head “I know it’s wrong to talk shit of her even more when she’s dead, but fuck, she had it coming! What did she think was going to happen, it was already a miracle we didn’t find her dead when she did drugs, or that none of her many flings didn’t steal the crap out of us and killed us in our sleep. She wasn’t a good mother, no good mother would ever let her children... and then the minute something went off or there was some other guy somewhere else, she asked us to abandon everything and put our lives on hold, time after fucking time, and follow her across the country as if it was nothing. Always having to make new friends, pretend not to be poor so they wouldn’t mess with us when our sweaters were older and more patched than our socks, and your shoes were always too big because you got big so fast mom could afford better buying you huge shoes that’d last ages than your size that would be short soon and have to buy another. She was a fucking...” she sighed frustrated.

            “Say it” Strike encouraged “I’m sure she’d forgive us. You’ve shut it over thirty years, go on. She can’t hear you.”

            “Negligent poor excuse of a mother” Lucy said as if it had been on the tip of her tongue for years “she thought it was enough with being affectionate and loving and teaching us stuff and saying we’d know England and see more world than any of our friends, but it wasn’t. She didn’t provide, she didn’t give us a sense of security, she forced us to leave friends behind, and I remember we could do basically anything we wanted because she didn’t even notice if we left a couple hours. I remember you’d save the pennies you found and buy me birthday presents or make them yourself because she didn’t have money, so she’d just take us to the beach every special occasion. As if it wasn’t damn cold.” She sobbed out “You were the best brother ever and if it wasn’t for you...” she started crying heavily and Strike hugged her, moved. He had heard her complain many times, but he had never quite let her talk with her about those things “It wasn’t your responsibility!” she cried out against his cheek “You shouldn’t have had to do anything of that! She shouldn’t have let you be a father to the both of us while she slept with any boy she found and called it mothering!”

            “Sh...” Strike comforted her closing his eyes and rubbing her back. It was an uncomfortable position, even more without his prosthesis to balance him, but he didn’t care. He felt his sister and him and just exploded like a volcano after years on the verge of eruption. Greg whispered comforting nothings to his wife, Nick and Ilsa contemplated the scene with a mixture of deep sadness and affection, and Robin felt like she was living a nightmare and just sat there, feeling as if someone had just double slapped her, in shock “It’s okay...”

            “How can you say it’s okay?” Lucy pulled apart “it isn’t! You accepted Charlotte’s abuse as normal because mom taught you that was the normal way for women to be, crazy, reckless, selfish and irresponsible.” Strike raised his eyebrows, surprised, and nodded slowly.

            “Okay...” Strike accepted “It’s fucking shit, our childhood was crap, and mom fucked things up a big deal for us.” He added “I know. But I’d rather remember the small good moments I can find because otherwise...” he shrugged “it’d mean we threw away twenty years of our life, wouldn’t it?”

            “I guess” Lucy blew her nose in one of her tissues and accepted a kiss of Greg on the cheek “I’m good honey, I’m alright... as much as we can be tonight.” She smiled tearfully and lovingly at Greg, who smiled sadly at her, and then she looked at Strike, who sat straightened up, thoughtful. “You should stop protecting her one day too.”

            Strike nodded. He knew exactly what she was talking about. He still took care of her, refusing to talk shit of her and refusing to admit out loud the crap she had caused in his life.

            “Thing is...” Strike licked his wounded lip subconsciously “reality is gray, Lucy. I can’t just say mom was a shitty mother, because she was also the only thing I had. Your father paid attention to you, remembers the children’s birthdays, yours, calls a couple times per week, invites you to special occasions, you do the same. He paid mom for your maintenance, he paid for your university education when you stared after mom died and I left to the army, you weren’t left that lonely. Not saying I got it worse, after all I was also more grown up, but it’s different.”

            “I always offered you a room and money and all I had, and you were always too proud...” Lucy started.

            “Because I couldn’t do that to us, Luce, I’m your big brother.” Strike interrupted “If I had done that, I would’ve been the failure of a brother living with you until God knows why, without a degree and without my leg. And you didn’t have that much money to help me anyway, Charlotte lent and that was hard enough to accept, and then Rokeby, which was even worse. Mom died, she was my only parent, and I refused to do that to us or go and do it to Uncle Ted. I needed to be responsible and find a decent out, and I was big, strong and had done boxing, the army was a brilliant idea in the day and they paid me instead of what Oxford cost, scholarships and all, they gave me a dozen professional opportunities, I would’ve stayed there longer if it wasn’t for the explosion. You think is so easy to accept such big favours, that I’m just some proud, stubborn man, but it’s not. I saw potential in you, I knew you were smart and talented and that your father would take care of things for me, I wrote him myself -“

            “You did?” Lucy was surprised.

            “Of course!” Strike replied “I wasn’t just going to go and leave you to your luck. I told him my plans, I told him our economical situation, and I told him that if he loved you then he had to be a good dad and take care of you, and if he didn’t, then he better tell me right then so I could take care of you myself. He said I could go do my thing, that he wouldn’t abandon his daughter. Next I knew, he paid your university and you were kicking asses, I was damn proud of you to go and fuck up your life with my shit.”

            “You’re too good.” Lucy kissed him on the cheek “Soft grizzly bear.”

            “It’s late” Robin chimed in timidly “We should all go to sleep and you guys have too much alcohol in blood to drive home” she added pointing at Lucy and Greg, since the Herberts lived literally five minutes walking from there “so we’ll set the sofa, it becomes a bed and there are sheets upstairs...” she looked as exhausted as she felt, and sighed “And I just want to apologize to everyone for having pretty much ruined the night, I’m an asshole and I’m sorry. You’ll get more than just that in private” she added looking at Strike “if you still want me, of course.” She added timidly looking ashamed. Strike chuckled and hopped his way to her. Ilsa quickly moved to sit on Nick so Strike could let his ass fall on her place, and Strike hugged Robin as tight as possibly without upsetting her belly. She broke down in tears in his arms again “I’m the biggest jerk...”

            “Don’t insult my girl” Strike hugged her lovingly, kissing her head “I love you so much Robin. You’re the most incredible, outstanding person ever. You hear me? I could never not want you, I’d be brainless!”

            “I love you” Robin reached to kiss him “I’m so sorry, so, so sorry.” She hugged onto his neck, kissing his lips “I don’t want to lose you ever.”

            “Well, we better leave these reconcile.” Ilsa motioned “I’ll get Aria.”

            “We’ll grab a cab” Lucy said “kids need us to pick them up tomorrow anyway...” She saw her brother was too busy making out with Robin and none of them was listening, so they just left quietly.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the reviews and everything!


	25. Less time for Colin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Colin case advances

The next day, Strike and Robin woke up past lunch time, had a couple rounds of sex, and then spent the rest of the day snuggled up in bed. They didn’t give a shit about the rest of the world, turning their phones off and deciding they needed a day off. But the following day, they both were up bright and early for work.

            “Yeah, we’re good, don’t worry” Strike told his sister on the phone as Robin did some heavy research in her computer at the office and he analysed some evidence of a case “yeah, we spend the day in bed. Fantastic. We’re sorry again, for everything.” They had been apologizing non-stop all morning, calling their friends, even if their friends weren’t upset at all “Love you too, bye.” He hung up “Ah, this is why I don’t do feelings, imagine if I did it all the time...” Robin smiled at him from her desk.

            “We’ve got childbirth class at four.” Robin reminded him with a chuckle one day in the middle of May. Robin was getting pretty huge already as the heat washed over London and they started to leave the rain behind.

            “Shit.”

            Childbirth classes had been a strong recommendation from Lucy, so she gave them a number and an address and they drove all the way to Bromley for them. Three cases closed and well paid were good money and they had finally gotten a car, it wasn’t incredible, but it was good enough for them. After a few visits to the physical therapist for his leg, Strike was able to drive it and all, since he just had to learn to detect with his knee and not with his foot the amount of strength he put into the pedal. Strike had never even bothered to see if he could drive after the explosion because he was afraid he’d been told no, and it was so refreshing to be driving again after so many years. So much, and it made him smile so big, that he used any excuse to use the car, even if it was through the very crowded, with so much traffic, City.

            “Look Robin, aren’t I smooth driver? Kids won’t even puke!” Strike said cheerful, like a child. Robin laughed in her seat. It had started to get uncomfortable to drive and she was glad to rest it off, and now she doubted she’d be driving for at least a year, seeing Strike’s excitement. Their new car wasn’t a luxurious Mercedes, but her Uncle Edwin had a friend who had barely used the car because he claimed the car ‘hated’ him, and was selling it, and made them a special prize for being Edwin’s family. And it was a pretty nice car nevertheless, made Robin whistle when she saw it, all shinny, clean almost as new, dark blue, almost black.

            “Yes honey, you’re doing the best job.” She complimented him, seeing his smile widen like a child who had gotten top mark of the class and got a new toy. It made her joyful.

            Lucy had spoken wonders of her childbirth teacher, Greg assured it was ‘pretty fine’, and Strike assured it was ‘useless, you’re not going to think of those techniques when you’re pushing two kids out of a tiny hole’ and Robin decided to try anyway. It was in a big room with big windows, and dozens of couples filled it sitting on yoga mats with their best gym clothes and in Strike’s case, the first gym clothes he had owned since he became disabled.

            “At least we get to cuddle” Strike whispered by Robin’s ear, hugging her from behind as they sat on their mat, two pairs of hands to hold Robin’s belly. Robin chuckled while listening to their teacher explaining stuff about anatomy and how the pain-management meds worked. Their private course cost a liver, but they were doing good in the business so they affronted it and plus, the teacher was an ob/gyn doctor, a wonderful woman who had given birth five times herself, and it made Robin feel more at ease and in control to have those 40 hours of lessons.

Like coming back to university, both Strike and Robin took notes during every class and although at first Strike thought it would be all about breathing techniques and ‘why the hell we need 40h for that?’ soon he found himself going over the female and baby anatomy, the whole labour process -including some videos that were worse for him to see than dead bodies- or medicines, hormones, emotional changes, contractions management, and hundreds of things more. He got to ask a thousand questions, he got to learn about being a father, and he got to have the closest experience to the actual labour and talk with other nervous first-time parents.

And then when they got home and Robin went for a nap, he got to sit and red bedtime stories out loud, even making the characters’ voices for Robin’s delight, until he fell asleep himself, because Robin said it made the babies relax and also helped them get familiar with his voice.

“Come on, this is so cute!” Robin was now eight months pregnant and they were in the shopping centre with Ilsa and Lucy doing ‘girls shopping’ for the babies. Strike had decided to come along, just in case Robin’s hormones made her buy something he refused to put on any of their children. Robin was just holding a very tiny bear onesie with the cutest smile “Little grizzly bear to their big grizzly bear, rawr!”

“Oh dear God...” Strike face palmed. His were going to be _that_ type of babies “Alright, grab one...”

“Shouldn’t we get two?” Robin asked.

“Robin, if we dress them the same at once, I won’t be able to distinguish them” Strike assured “besides, it seems pretty unoriginal to have them always twinning, they know they’re twins, came at the same time. Let’s buy one thing on each, double the amount of clothes we buy, and they can learn to share.” Robin nodded.

“You’re right. Let’s not dress them same... let’s buy the monkey one too!” Lucy laughed at her sort of sister in law.

“Okay, what’s the difference?” Strike asked looking at baby bottles “Why does this one cost double?”

“That one tells you at which temperature the milk is” Lucy explained.

“Then we get this one right? Means is better?”

“Stick” Lucy tried not to laugh “we didn’t have bottles like this and turned out fine. Why do you need to know the temperature of the bottle, if you can just try the milk out and feel for yourself?”

“Drink it myself?” Strike’s eyes widened “I can’t do that, is Robin’s milk!” Robin laughed out loud “Do people do this for real?” Lucy resisted the urge to laugh.

“Yes, daddy” Lucy nodded. They had decided Robin would breastfeed but also get her milk out whenever she felt like it so Strike could help and also so she could empty her boobs whenever she felt uncomfortable, even if the children weren’t hungry.

“Aw, this is so cute!” Ilsa screamed.

“Where?!” Robin asked excitedly. Strike rolled his eyes.

**. . .**

August came so fast they didn’t even see it coming. Robin was now 38 weeks pregnant, big as a whale -even though Strike wouldn’t be as stupid as to say it on her face- and refusing to go on maternal leave. It was early morning and they sat in their small office, both focused working their cases’ paperwork with the radio news in the background just in case Colin appeared, as they had been doing for months now.

“. _..Dolores Edmonds has been found dead along with young Kevin Hedley, buried outside an abandoned old warehouse in Swindon._..” the radio sounded.

“Wait what?” Robin glared at the radio rising up the volume. Strike frowned and walked to her, his hands on her shoulders.

“... _Edmonds’ son, Colin Thomas, age 7, has been missing for nearly six months. Police suspected his mother had kidnapped him to steal him away from the boy’s father, Andrew Thomas, who currently has his custody. However, there’s still no trace of Colin. Hedley and Edmonds were shot numerous times and buried not too deep. Some witnesses saw a dark figure bury something them from afar, and went to check what was there afterwards, uncovering the bodies and calling the police immediately..._ ”

“Kevin told me he’d call me when he found them” Strike said.

“He didn’t have time, they were killed.”

Strike called his friend in the police Richard Anstis. After a heated call, he looked at Robin, hanging up.

“They’ve been dead for two days approximately, killed at the warehouse, no idea where Colin is” Strike said “They were shot with a hunting shotgun after they were already dead, and there are marks that suggest they were beaten up with the back of an agriculture hoe. According to witnesses, there were some squatters at the abandoned warehouse and now they aren’t. Hedley was seen by witnesses in Swindon the day before.” Strike explained Robin “Anstis told me they located his mother in Isleworth, where they’re staying at the apartment of some friends, and told her the news. She said her husband and her had been there for a few months to run away from the press accumulated around their home after it was found out they were friends of Edmonds. Her wife and him had no idea Kevin was around, said they thought he was working in North England, that it’s the last they knew of him, and they hadn’t heard a word of Edmonds in a very long time. Apparently they’re an old couple, Anstis already went to interrogate them and says they’re devastated, very distressed.”

Robin was thoughtful for a while and suddenly she slapped the table, her eyes widening.

“Balls!” Robin screamed.

“What?” Strike looked at her confused.

“It was Mr Hedley all along!” Robin said “Fucking in our faces!”

“What? He’s old, how would he...?” Strike was confused for a change.

“Cormoran, they were killed with an agriculture tool and shot with a haunting shotgun” Robin repeated.

“The Hedleys are a family of farmers and Ms Garretson said they went haunting...” Strike realised. Robin nodded.

“Mr Hedley was happy Edmonds took Kevin out of the gang. Edmonds spent a lot of time in their house, remember? Teaching Kevin before and after the gang happened. Edmonds was particularly fond of Kevin, because she had an affair with Mr Hedley. Then, she got pregnant, and Mr Hedley couldn’t see it or he’d know, which is why Kevin and her started meeting outside his house, so Mr Hedley wouldn’t know. She probably told Kevin she didn’t want him to tell a soul just in case the gang went after the baby or something. But then Edmonds was losing Colin, so she probably thought if she proved Mr Hedley was Colin’s biological father and not Andrew Thomas, then Andrew would lose the custody in her favour. She wasn’t very educated after all, she wouldn’t know how it actually works. So she secretly met with Mr Hedley and introduced him to Colin, and maybe he got furious and decided to kidnap her and the boy and hide them away before she talked too much and ruined his marriage. Kevin must’ve figured it out eventually, so he went to talk with his father and ask. His father took him far away so the mother wouldn’t hear, Dolores and the boy were probably hidden in the warehouse so he already had a place. Things probably got nasty, Dolores and Kevin tried to get out with Colin, Mr Hedley killed them, but for some reason didn’t kill Colin. Must be hidden somewhere else.” Robin exploded.

“We can’t lose more time” Strike said “you stay here, I’ll call Anstis, figure where they live and interrogate them until they slip. Maybe I see Colin or something in the apartment that tells us where Colin is.”

“I’m not staying here.” Robin argued.

“Robin, you’re going to give birth any day now and this could be dangerous...”

“He’s an old man and you’re an ex-SIB, and he won’t hurt us in front of his wife and their friends.” Robin reasoned “Even less when he knows police knows we’re there and if we’re hurt, they’ll have him in minutes. Besides, I’m not due for two weeks more, I’d feel it if I was going to give birth today, it’ll be fine, Corm, we’ll be looking for him for six months, he’s all alone without his mother, I’m not losing him again and you could need me.” Strike knew there was no reasoning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter on Monday!


	26. Bugger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colin's found, Robin gets hurt, and babies are incomming!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's light violence in this chapter.

Strike and Robin met with Anstis in Isleworth and went to the apartment of the Hedley’s friends to talk with them.

“I just want to look around Anstis” Strike said “search for clues. You don’t have permission to do that, we can do it just by looking around.”

Anstis shook his head but led them into the apartment anyway.

“Hi Ms Gallaham” Anstis saluted the flat’s owners “I’m from the police, remember me? Anstis. These are private detectives Mr Strike and Ms Ellacott, Mr Thomas hired them to find Colin so we work together in the case. We came because they’d like to talk with Mr and Ms Hedley.”

“Sure” The woman smiled at them. She was in her seventies, and looked as kind and innocent as most old women “but they’re pretty broken, to be honest.”

“It’ll just be a moment” Strike smiled politely.

They were let into a modest apartment and a small sitting room where Mr Gallaham was drinking tea with a crying Ms Hedley and a serious, consternated Mr Hedley. The Hedleys looked like a typical couple of farmers, old and humble, and Mr Gallaham was quick to offer them tea before him and Ms Gallaham went outside to give them some privacy. Strike and Robin had already told Anstis their theory on their way there.

“Mr Hedley, you’re a farmer right?” Strike asked, and Mr Hedley nodded, his big double chin trembling with it “Did you bring your haunting guns with you?”

“I didn’t, they’re at home, police can register it there. I only own gunshot and is there.” Mr Hedley said “Are you assuming I killed my own son?”

“Someone could’ve stolen it from you if you brought it here” Robin intervened “Mr Strike and I have to think of all the possibilities. If we find Colin, we’ll find who killed your soon too.”

“Yeah” Ms Hedley cried “they’re good people.”

“That’s right” Strike smiled at her “So Mr Hedley, when was the last time you saw your son?”

“Back home” Mr Hedley said “before we went to Scotland. We came straight here from Scotland, when we supposed the house would still be surrounded by press. My son was suspected by the police, so he said he’d hide somewhere else, we don’t know where he’s been.”

“Your son helped you in the farm, right?” Strike asked “Did he bring his hoe around?”

“We only had one hoe, but he helped, yes. I suppose it’s at home. Kevin wouldn’t need it, so I can’t imagine he’d take it.”

“Where were you at the time of your son’s death?” Strike asked right away.

“We were all home, our friends can tell.” Mr Hedley said.

“Have you ever seen this boy in person?” Robin asked showing a picture of Colin.

“No” Mr Hedley’s eyes deceived him. Most people wouldn’t be able to see the small movement, but Strike saw.

“When was the last time you talked with Dolores?” Robin asked.

“Years ago.” Liar. Strike squeezed Robin’s thigh to let her know he had it.

Before they left the house, Robin looked at Ms Hedley, giving her, their card. Robin made sure to look straight into her tearful eyes.

“Cormoran grew up without a mother. I know how much it hurt him, and it kills me that Colin will have to live with that, but he’s got a good father in London. Someone who loves him and can take care of him. We can’t give you your son back” Robin whispered making sure only she heard “but we can help that poor boy find his way home. He’s only seven. We need your help, Ms Hedley. Two innocent people have died already. Help Colin, before his kidnappers kill again. Please” She smiled kindly but sadly before they left.

After the interrogatory, the three friends went for lunch to a restaurant in Isleworth, Anstis invited.

“Go home, I told you, there’s nothing here to see.”

“Hedley was lying” Strike said “the whole time.”

“You’ve got no proof. Even if you were right, without proof there’s nothing we can do. And you admitted there was nothing suspicious about the flat, they even let you walk around.” It was then when Robin’s cell rang.

“Robin Ellacott” she said picking up “hello, Ms Hedley.” Her eyes widened and soon she was making gestures for the men to follow her “We’re on our way. Don’t worry, everything’s going to go fine.” She hung up, and the three were already getting into Strike’s car, since Anstis wasn’t discreet about him being in the police “She confessed. Mr Hedley wasn’t home for six hours when they were killed, time enough. Mr Gallaham was working during the time and Ms Gallaham went to a doctor’s appointment and then spent the day out with Ms Hedley. Mr Hedley told her he had been visiting some friends and going for drinks with them to a pub, but she found he had left the wallet home. The Gallahams just assumed Mr Hedley was in the city, plus he was there the rest of the day. Now Ms Hedley says Mr Hedley had a hue in his car because they had just bought it at a farmers’ sales on their way from Scotland, when she saw he lied today, she started suspecting. She said he just went out, we find the car and we follow him!”

Ms Hedley had told Robin exactly how their car was and Robin, who knew tons about cars, needed barely a few minutes walking around the Gallahams’ flat to identify it, and identify Mr Hedley in it. They followed keeping their distance so they wouldn’t identify them, Anstis driving.

“I hope one day you finally take our investigations seriously Anstis” Strike commented.

“I hope one day you don’t bring your very pregnant girlfriend with us in these things” Anstis replied.

“If he hadn’t brought me, we wouldn’t have Hedley by the balls right now. And it’s ‘PI’ Robin, not ‘his girlfriend’ when it comes to this.” Robin chimed in. Strike laughed and Anstis rolled his eyes.

They observed from the distance how Hedley parked and got out of the car, and observed silently from outside. He was walking around calmly, his hoe in his hand.

“We need to follow him walking” Strike said.

“But we need to separate” Robin commented “if we go together, we’ll be too much of a lump in the rear view, he’ll catch us inflagrante.”

“True.” Anstis nodded “I’ll go, I’m the cop.”

Anstis exited the car and went after Hedley.

“You know” Strike said after a while “I should probably go too. I don’t want to insult Anstis, but he isn’t very observant.”

“Yeah” Robin nodded “don’t worry, I’ll stay in the car. Be careful.” Strike kissed her and left the car too. Robin could no longer see anything from the car. After twenty minutes patiently waiting, she was done.

Robin got out of their car and walked following the path she had seen Strike take. Asking people around for ‘a guy with a hoe’ was actually quite easy as he had called attention on himself, and Robin entered a narrow, desert street. She had a hunch. Suddenly she saw a body on the floor, unconscious.

“Richard!” Robin reached him “Richard...” she breathed out in relief when she saw he had a pulse, he was just unconscious, but his gun was gone. It seemed like he had been hit in the head with the back of the hoe, but there was only a small bump bruised “I hope you’re good buddy. I’ve got to find my man.” Robin called the ambulance and when she turned around to keep going, look for a clue as for where Strike and Hedley were, she found Hedley just entering the street. He was sweating and Robin could tell he had fought her boyfriend, because Strike’s marks were unmistakeable. She tried not to panic when she didn’t see Strike. Hedley still had the hoe “Well, I see you’ve met Mr Strike’s boxing abilities.” Robin commented trying to stay brave. He must had Anstis’ gun hidden in his jacket.

“Yeah well” Hedley spit up blood “he won’t find us.”

“What did you do with him?”

“Good hoe did the trick in his prosthesis. He can’t run after us now. You’re coming with me, don’t try my ability with the hoe. This way.” He was already pretty close to her and even thought she’d usually fight him easily, now she was very pregnant and struggled even to walk. She had no ability to run, let alone fight a man who very likely had a gun. Strike would find them, and police was already on the way to the street.

Hedley lead her to an apartment building, pretty tall, that had been left abandoned mid construction. It hadn’t been painted nor the floors installed, so it was just a big gray mass with windows and doors, and an enormous security constructions’ cloth covered parts of it. Hedley opened the security fence for her and they went upstairs several floors. It seemed the building had been used for graffiti and homeless, but now no one was there. They went five floors upstairs. And Hedley led her to an empty room. Except that Colin Thomas was there, tied to a chair and with tape in his mouth. His hair hadn’t been cut in six months, so it was a bit longer, and he looked thinner and smaller, and like he had cried a lot.

“Colin!” Robin felt a weight leave her body and she walked as fast as she could to him.

“You can remove the tape, but if he yells, or you yell, or you untie him, I’ll kill you both.” Hedley grumbled. Robin removed the tape carefully from his face and hugged him the best way she could, kneeling next to him.

“It’s going to be okay buddy. There’s a very good private detective out there who will find us, he’s almost here. You’re going home to daddy.” Robin assured him. Their room had no windows, only exit was the door.

“Shut up.” Hedley said, pulling Anstis’ gun out of his jacket, satisfied seeing it was charged “I’m going to take care of that bastard and then we’ll see how I kill you both... You, give me your phone” Hedley told Robin, who did so. He stepped on the phone, breaking the screen. Hedley was heavily bruised, his eye was starting to turn purple “Don’t even try to get out.”

He left and locked them in. Robin quickly untied Colin.

“I’m hungry...” he said, sobbing “where’s my mom?”

“I don’t know buddy...” Robin hugged him tightly “but lucky you my babies eat a lot. Here.” She pulled a Twix bar out of her jacket and gave it to him.

“Twix!” he grinned through the tears and started eating him. Robin grabbed her phone. It wasn’t turning on, but when she opened it she saw the SIM card, battery and SD Card were intact. It was Microsoft Phone after all, those were practically bricks. She took those out.

“I’m Robin, by the way. Hey Colin, your dad gave you a cell didn’t he?”

“Yeah, but I never have signal lately. I’ve been tied up for four days, so I couldn’t use it. No one knows I have it, not even mommy. Daddy said it was a secret. That man didn’t even register me so...” he pulled it out of his phone and gave it to Robin “Robin, it doesn’t have battery.”

“Don’t worry. You just saved us.” Robin grinned seeing it was also a Microsoft Phone and opened his phone, substituting the batteries. She moved around the room until it gave signal, wasn’t that hard since they were in a small town. She called 999 and told them their address, that she had seen before they went into the building. She told them all she knew and then called Strike.

“Robin? All good?” He must not have noticed she left the car.

“I left the car and I’m with Robin. Hedley locked us up and broke my phone but Colin had his and anyway I called 999. Hedley went after you, be careful.” Robin said very quickly.

“Where are you?” Robin was telling him the address when she heard a thud and the line went dead “Corm? Corm! Bugger!” Robin knew she had to go get him. She could hear sirens “Okay, Colin, listen. We need to go, Hedley might be on his way. But police is also right around the corner okay?” Colin nodded and held the hand she offered him “If you see him, run, don’t wait for me. Run and yell for help until someone aids you. I’m going to get you home, we’re not far, we’re at Isleworth, near the City.”

“Okay, good. Thanks Robin” he said. Robin freed his hand for a second and searching in her pocket for the tools to get in the locket and open the door. Cormoran had taught her how to do it. She was almost there when she felt a strong contraction and doubled over at the unexpected pain with a shriek, holding her belly. It hurt like crazy “Robin! What’s wrong?” he asked worried.

“Well” Robin tried to compose herself and not scare him, going back to opening the door “I may be in labour buddy. This wasn’t supposed to happen for a couple weeks, but well, don’t worry, we have time enough.” She prayed so. Of course Cormoran Strike’s children would want to participate in the fun. With a breath of relief, she heard a click and the door opened. She grabbed Colin’s hand and they went as fast as Robin could with the contractions that suddenly were taking over her. This was nothing like the childbirth classes said. It hurt a lot and the contractions were too non-stop. But she could only think in Strike and the possibility that Hedley came any second.

A particularly hard pain came as they hurried downstairs and she fell a whole flight of stairs. Then the pain got surreal.

“Robin!” Colin ran after her and knelt next to her. Robin clenched her teeth and eyes trying not to scare him with shrieks. It was just contractions, or so she was willing to convince herself.

“I’m good” Robin breathed deeply. She heard the sirens.

“Robin!” she heard. Strike. He was floors down “Colin! Robin!” he practically roared.

“Colin, sweetie” Robin looked at the boy, caressing his face “I need you to be a big, brave boy like I know you are okay?” he nodded “that’s Cormoran Strike, do you know him?”

“I’ve seen him in TV” Colin said “a friend in school told me he’s like Superman.” Robin smiled through the pain.

“He is. He’s my boyfriend, baby daddy. He’ll take care of you. Run, tell him where I am okay?” Colin nodded and ran downstairs “Bugger...” Robin grumbled holding her belly as another hard contraction came and she hunched over in pain “Please be okay. Daniel, Sophie, be okay. Mommy’s got you.” She breathed out when it passed. She could hear Strike’s unmistakeable limping upstairs, and Colin’s smaller steps. Also sirens.


	27. Lucky dude's wife

Charing Cross Hospital was the closest one. Robin yelled in pain in her stretcher as the doctors hurried to wheel her across the corridors. Strike trying to keep up even though his leg was killing him, holding her hand, white of worry. He had a cut over a forehead, a broken nose, a bruised cheek, and he was sure he had bruises in his torso too. His hands were a bit bruised from punching Hedley.

“It’s okay baby, you’re going to be okay” Strike assured her. They finally stopped in a room.

“It hurts, it really does fucking hurt, way more than the childbirth doctor said Corm” Robin cried.

“It’ll stop soon, the doctors are here.” Strike kissed her forehead. Police had called Colin’s dad to come to Charing Cross Hospital, where Colin was being checked, and they were already reunited.

“You fucking bastard” Robin smiled through the tears “you did it. You said he’d be home before these were born, you did it.”

“No, Robin” Strike kissed her on the lips “you did it. And you found Anstis too, he’s okay, a cop said he just has a small concussion.”

“Good” Robin nodded, another shriek shortly after. Then she breathed deeply “What happened with you? I thought...”

“He caught us talking, but I heard him on time. He’s arrested, unconscious. I fought him when he hit Anstis, then he ran way, I followed, we fought, he hit my leg and I fell. Took me a bit to recover.”

The doctors performed a few tests on Robin before determining she was fully in labour. They couldn’t tell why the pain was being so intense with the contractions, imagining maybe since she fell downstairs, her body was just a bit in extra pain from internal bruising, even though nothing was broken, but they gave her some meds through an IV and that seemed to calm her down. She wasn’t dilated enough yet, so they left them alone in a room to rest. Strike sat on the verge of Robin’s bed, holding her hand as she breathed deeply to keep her shit together.

“You’re doing an incredible job baby” Strike kissed her forehead “I’m so proud of you. Just keep doing what you’re doing and we’ll be good.”

“It’s too early. Daniel isn’t ready.” Robin said.

“38 weeks is not preemie babe, Daniel will be okay. He’ll be our strong dwarf, like his mother. Tiny ball of strength.” Strike smiled comfortably “You’re such an incredible mother already.”

“And you’re an incredible father. Carrying me all the way to the ambulance with a bad leg and all.” Robin leant forward to kiss him “My big Superman.”

“Superman?” Strike laughed.

“That’s how Colin calls you” Robin explained “he told me knew new you from TV, that a friend explained him you’re Superman.” Strike held Robin’s big cheeks between his equally big hands and kissed her deeply.

“You are Wonder Woman then” Strike said “you saved Colin, you called help on Anstis, you made Ms Hedley confess, you are going to make us really happy parents soon. You’re my hero.” Robin felt her eyes get all tearful.

“Damn hormones” she laughed-cried “I love you.”

“Good. Because I’m going to marry you one day.” Strike chuckled and Robin laughed softly.

“I look forward to being your wife then.” She said softly, squeezing his hand.

“You won’t be just ‘my wife’” he imitated her earlier performance “you will be Robin the Wonder Woman, and then yes, some lucky dude’s wife.” She grinned at him. Life was great.

**. . .**

Sophie Leda Strike was born on August 9th 2012 at 10:29PM after hours and hours of pushing. Robin, despite the pain, had rejected the epidural because she was afraid numbing things would make it harder for her to feel her body told her to do. Strike didn’t hear Sophie’s cry because there was none.

“She’s here, Sophie!” the doctor chuckled.

“Go, don’t lose her from sight. Don’t separate from her for nothing in the world.” Robin said. She was white, her freckles contrasting particularly with her pale skin making it look like a galaxy, and she was covered in sweat. Strike nodded and kissed her hand before going to see. Weirdly, it wasn’t as disgusting as the videos had been, despite the fact that he saw his girlfriend’s entrance way bigger than ever, but the moment he caught with his firm but gloved hand Sophie’s head, he felt himself start crying silently.

“I’ve got you kid. Daddy’s got you.” Strike whispered.

“Good job, let her push your hand back. One more push Robin!” the doctor indicated, his hands on Sophie’s shoulders and neck to make sure all went well. Robin yelled hard and the baby came sliding out easily. Strike found himself lost in Sophie’s big light eyes, that stared at him in surprise, as weird as it was for a baby to come out with open eyes and without crying. She was pretty big and all chubby, her face was basically cheeks, like Robin as a baby. In fact, they looked very alike, which made Strike grin.

“She’s here! She’s stunning Robin, she looks just like you! Well, except for the bit of curly dark hair, that’s mine I’m afraid.” Strike smiled at Robin, who smiled tiredly at him as tears rolled down her cheeks.

Hands went to Sophie quickly, cutting the cord, cleaning her eyes, mouth, ears and nose to ensure she could breathe, wrapped up in a towel and given to Strike, who cradled her lovingly. He couldn’t stop looking at her, mesmerized. He walked to Robin and put her in her arms and Robin sobbed kissing her cheeky face as she looked at them with the most confused expression. Strike took a few quick pictures with his phone.

“She’s perfect. She’s absolutely perfect.” Robin cried out. Then her breath caught as another wave of pain came and she shut her eyes “Take her, don’t lose her nor Daniel okay? I’m going to push him out of me before the pain gets in my nerves.”

“Good” Strike held his daughter tightly “I love you. Good job love, you’re the best.” Strike kissed her on the mouth again.

It took a few minutes, but shortly after Daniel followed the same process as his sister, while Sophie was put in a small hospital plastic crib for a moment, wrapped up in a blanket like a burrito. Daniel was visibly smaller, but there was something wrong. He wasn’t breathing.

“What the...” Strike murmured. But too many things happened at once. Robin grunted loudly and then went unconscious, a lot of blood started coming out of her, doctors grabbed Daniel and started trying to bring him back, and nurses put Sophie in Strike’s arms and softly but quickly kicked him out of the room “What’s going on? Are they okay?” Sophie started crying, sensing her father’s, unnerving. Strike felt his own heart about to leave his chest. Daniel was dead and Robin could be soon. And he wasn’t with them.

“Mr Strike, please” the nurse, female, gently walked him through a corridor “your son was born without a heartbeat, but he had it less than a minute ago when we last detected it, as they were monitored the whole time. They’re going to do all they can for him to be okay, I’ll wait with you right here and a doctor will come shortly to inform you. And your wife seems to be experimenting some major blood loss, which is why she fainted. It happens every once in a long while okay? These days we can treat that without much problem, and she’ll be good taken care of.”

“She won’t die right?” he asked, anguished, with tearful eyes “I can’t do this without her. And Danny...” she pushed him gently into a chair and rubbed his back, with a gentle smile.

“Look at your daughter. Sophie, right?” he nodded, sobbing as he looked down at his crying daughter. His instincts kicked in and he cradled her while rocking backwards and forward “There’s nothing a father can’t do for his child. I assure you. You’ll both be okay, whatever happens. Just take care of her now as your girlfriend asked you and trust the experts that are taking care of the rest of your family.” Strike nodded sniffling.

“That’s okay baby-girl. We’re a bit upset and that’s all good.” Strike decided to just hold her against her chest, kissing her head and rubbing her cheek softly with one thumb “Tell you what, did you know you look exactly like your mommy at your age? Which means, good news for you, you’re going to be a gorgeous adult woman one day. And super smart, like mommy, I’m sure. You were already so smart you knew how to come out all on your own, one push and you flew out entirely, you little bird.” She seemed to calm down and be falling asleep, and Strike breathed deeply “She’s just going to sleep right? She’s okay?”

“She’s okay” the nurse said checking her and smiling “she’s all good, because she’s with her daddy.” Strike nodded.

“You’re with daddy. I love you so much Sophie, so much.” Strike assured his baby, accommodating the pink beanie they had put on her and kissing her face again “Mommy loves you too. And your little brother. They adore you already. Bet you and Danny had loads of fun in there and now you’re going to have way more fun even honey, you’ll see.”

“Mr Strike” Doctor Riverview came with a kind expression and sat next to them. Strike looked pale and worried, and the Doctor rubbed her back “it’s all okay now. Daniel is okay, the doctor’s finishing to check him up. It seems as if somehow he made his first breath too soon and liquid got into his respiratory system and he asphyxiated, but he still had a bit of pulse when he came out and the doctor had the problem solved in seconds. They’re just taking longer because they went to do a couple tests and make sure he was really alright and they just came out, he’s completely fine. The doctor was putting some diapers on him and a blanket when I got out to inform you and they’ll be here any minute.” As if on cue, a nurse appeared with Daniel. Strike had no doubt it was his son because he looked so much like his sister it was astonishing. He was just smaller and sleeping. They passed him to Strike, who held them both. The nurse had come with a small changing table with wheels that the first nurse that came with Strike used to put some diapers the other brought on Sophie before she peed on him or something. Finally, Strike held his two burritos with his big arms and hands, leaning back and just enjoying the view.

“What about Robin?” Strike asked finally looking at Doctor Riverview. She sighed.

“She has a first degree laceration, which is a tearing of skin inside her vagina from when she was pushing for Daniel to come out, and she’s bleed so much she fainted. It can be pretty dangerous situation, but she’s stable now, awake and being prepared for surgery as we speak, so I can go in and see exactly what’s ripped and stitch it up. Should last a couple hours maybe more or less, depends on what we see. She’ll sleep the whole surgery. Then if all goes well, she’ll sleep for a few hours after surgery in her own room where you and your children can be with her, and we’ll monitor her recovery and if all is well with all three, you can go home tomorrow at night or the next morning alright?” Doctor Riverview explained.

“Okay. Can I see her before surgery? To calm her down about the kids...” Strike asked. Doctor Riverview nodded.

“Let’s go.” She led him through a few corridors to a different room, all white. Strike walked a bit further to a stretcher where Robin laid covered in blankets as doctors and nurses walked around finishing getting her ready. She was very pale, but her eyes opened a little when she identified the sound of his steps and smiled tiredly at her, a tear falling through her cheek.

“Hi gorgeous” Strike smiled starting to get emotional again “you did it. They’re going to take you to surgery to repair a little tear in your vagina but we’ll see you later okay?” he kissed her on the lips and she nodded.

“Okay. How are they?” Strike carefully put them in her arms and she breathed deeply, smiling through the tears. Since she was very weak, Strike helped hold them “They’re fucking perfect!”

“That’s what I thought. And good news is at least Daniel is tinier so we can distinguish them.” Strike smiled and Robin laughed a little before going serious.

“No matter what Corm... promise me you’ll take care of them, with or without me... you’ll be the best dad in the world for them...” Robin looked at him pleadingly. Strike gulped a know in his throat.

“I promise.”


	28. I call them burritos

Strike sat in an empty room. There was a made bed with no one there, a sofa and a couple armchairs, and it was the most welcoming, friendly room, Strike had ever seen in a hospital. The ceiling was white, the floor, beige marble, and the walls were beige with white skirting board. There were flowers and paintings on the walls, and a big window that was closed with curtains closed, as it was night time anyway and there was nothing to see but the loud London.

He sat on the sofa looking exhausted, his nose had a small band-aid and his face had been checked out and taken care of, as well as the bruises under his shirt. In front of him slept the two twins, each in their hospital crib, which were very tiny cribs. His leg rested against the side of the sofa, as he had gotten his leg checked too and given some crutches to rest the leg off for the night. Police had driven Strike’s car to them and Strike had gotten a nurse to go get the bags they kept in the trunk for when the labour happened, and now the kids were in their cute pyjamas, with tiny socks and tiny cool beanies they had bought for them. A nurse had taught them how to feed them with some baby bottles with special formula they got and now they could sleep tight. Strike had called his sister and Michael crying like a baby and now he waited for them as calmly as if someone had hit him in the head. That was honestly how he felt.

He didn’t even hear the knock in the door.

“Stick” Lucy sobbed out, running to him. She knelt on the floor in front of him, avoiding the cribs, and held his hands as he looked at her like a zombie “oh, my boy.” Lucy hugged him tightly “My sweet giant... are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just tired. A little hungry. But it’s okay, I need to lose some weight anyway, Robin’s been feeding me like if I were five men.” Strike grumbled sleepily against his sister’s shoulder, closing his eyes.

“How’s Robin?” She asked.

“Still in surgery.” Strike answered “It’s been two hours already... but a doctor just came and said Doctor Riverview, our Doctor, said they’d be done shortly, that it had been a bit more complicated than expected but that Robin’s okay, sleeping tight, and they’ll bring her here the moment she’s all sorted out.”

“Good” Lucy rubbed his back and pulled apart, holding his face in her arms “You look about to faint sweetie. Here, I brought you a big chicken sandwich, like you like it. Greg’s with the kids.” Lucy sank her hand in her big purse and pulled out a big sandwich wrapped up in aluminium paper and a bottle of water and gave it to him. As he devoured silently, she turned and smiled at the kids “Are those my niece and nephew?”

“They are, unless they gave me the wrong ones at some point.” Strike joked as he munched “The tiny one’s Daniel, so you can distinguish them easily.”

“Oh my dear God.” She grinned at the kids, reaching to caress their big soft cheeks “They’re all good in the end, Daniel too.” Strike nodded.

“Daniel gave us the scare of our lives. Was born blue, he was barely breathing. They said he got some liquid in his respiratory system and is okay now.” Strike explained after he gulped. “And Sophie’s huge. I’m sorry for the pain that must’ve been like for Robin.” Lucy rolled her eyes at his dark humour “Don’t bug them too much, they got very upset and then the nurses helped me feed them, and they hate being washed, and they’ve just fallen asleep. We were all very upset.” Lucy nodded and sat next to him, an arm comforting around his broad back and her lips pressed against his shoulder.

“I won’t even comment in the aspect of having fought you’ve got, I guess Hedley put things difficult uh?” Strike nodded.

“Thanks for coming Luce” Strike grumbled after he finished his food, leaning his head exhaustedly against Lucy’s shoulder, closing his eyes “I needed you here tonight.” Lucy smiled kissing his forehead.

“I’m here forever.” She assured him “Sleep, I’ll wake you up when they bring her.”

“Okay, but don’t lose the twins from sight or Robin will kill me.” Strike mumbled.

After the emotional night of exploding, Robin had convinced Strike and Lucy to go to a therapist together, talk about their lives and emotions and manage to understand each other and get more along, since Strike many times still struggled to talk with his sister. The experience, although confronted with reticence, had brought them way closer and now Lucy didn’t go home just to chat with Robin, but also to catch up with Strike. They became best friends and now they went to the meetings once a month and actually liked them. Therapist said they progressed very fast, as they helped each other pull through, and soon wouldn’t need her anymore. That night Strike was extra thankful for being capable of being so close to his sister now.

He wasn’t woken up and he woke up two hours later on his own. Lucy was still there talking with Robin, if he heard well. His sleepiness died right away as he moved his head towards the bed. Robin was there, sitting up, eating what seemed like jelly. Although she was still a bit pale, she was smiling.

“Hello sleepy head” Robin smiled at him. He moved like hypnotised, hopping towards her and he let himself fall on the verge of the bed. Robin had just the right time to put the jelly on the night stand before her boyfriend hugged her and started crying hysterically. Her smile vanished and she hugged him tightly “oh God, Corm... it’s fine, I feel great honey, I’m great...”

“He was really scared” Lucy said standing up and stirring, as she hadn’t moved for the hours Strike had slept on her. The nurses had had to come and help Robin out when she woke up, and give her the twins for her to hold a bit, and put them back in the cribs, that were moved to be right by the side of the bed so she could see them. Robin nodded against his shoulder. She had seen him cry, but never like that. It sounded as horribly as if someone had killed his entire family an hour ago.

“Sh... calm down baby, it’s all good now... we’re all right.” Robin kept whispering nothings to try and calm him down. Lucy had already brought her, and Ilsa and Nick who sat on the armchairs after they had come running after leaving Aria with her grandparents, up to date with everything that she knew had happened that day.

“Never do that to me again” Strike sobbed “do you hear me? If I tell you to stay in the car, even if it’s for three fucking hours, you stay in the damn car! You could’ve died, you all could’ve died, and then I would’ve died.” He said between sobs, hugging her tighter.

“I’m so sorry baby. I’m sorry, you’re right...” Robin kissed him on the head, all warm from the crying. She felt her neck warm and wet from his face.

A few minutes later he had finally calmed down and just held onto her like a baby. Robin imagined it would be like hugging her children, but a hundred times bigger. But she didn’t mind, she loved a cuddly Strike. What she didn’t love so much was the reason he was so upset.

“This day sucked big time.” Strike mumbled finally pulling apart and rubbing his face.

“Well, we also became parents so something good happened...” Robin caressed his face with a tiny smile “your face looks better too. I knew you hit him well the moment I saw him.”

“Wait and see how he looks now. He’s hardly recognisable.” Strike said, his voice still hoarse “Gotta go to the bathroom.” Lucy passed him the crutches and when he stood up he saw Ilsa and Nick “Oh, nice to see you guys.”

“Go pee great big.” Nick smirked. Strike grabbed one of the bags from the floor on his way to the bathroom and when he came out a while later he was already changed into his pyjamas with a jumper on top.

“Can we go to sleep?” Strike asked joining Robin in bed, sitting on the verge.

“They’ll drive you home” Robin said “they just said it’s fine.”

“If you think for one second that I’m going to go anywhere far from you three for the next few... rest of our lives... you don’t quite know me.” Strike said simply “I’ll sleep on the sofa, way better than the office.” Robin chuckled.

“I had to try” she said caressing his cheek “have you seen how cute our children are?” Strike looked at the twins, still asleep, and chuckled tiredly.

“You made them right inside of you, how else would they be.” Strike shrugged “And I already counted, Sophie has nine freckles on her nose and cheeks, and Daniel has twelve. You’ve got twenty five all around your face, did you know?” Robin laughed.

“I didn’t know that, but now I know that and that you’re really creepy.”

“Come on, let’s leave the family to sleep.” Ilsa smiled getting up and kissed both Robin’s and Strike’s cheeks “Glad all’s good in the end, see you tomorrow. Bye little chipmunks...” she added with a silly voice looking at the sleeping twins.

“I call them burritos.” Strike said suddenly all casually, and they laughed.


	29. There are two kinds of people

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We know the twins a little!

Robin was back home with the kids two days after the twins’ birth. On the first day home after they arrived the night before, they had their friends and family home to babysit while Strike had gone to testify about Hedley, like they usually did when things ended in trial -more often than they’d like to- and Robin was excused due to her doctors having told her to ‘rest a lot, don’t walk much until the stitches inside heal fully, take care of yourself’. He was there all morning and came back on time for a lunch prepared by Michael and Martin, the Ellacott chefs. The Ellacotts and Uncle Ted and Aunt Joan had waited to go visit them and meet the children until they were comfortable back home.

When Strike came home, he closed his eyes smelling Robin’s perfume, and passed into their very crowded living room, all dressed elegantly with a suit and tie. He saw Robin laughing about something while breastfeeding Daniel on the sofa, where she snuggled up with a blanket, Aunt Joan laughing too, sitting next to her with Sophie in her arms. It was the very first time Robin met Strike’s Cornish family and he loved to see them getting along, as he knew they would. He noticed they seemed to be laughing at Joan playing with Sophie’s big cheeks and making faces, while Sophie kept her eyes wide open, like usual.

Sophie seemed to have inherited her parents’ sense of observation and curiosity. Whenever she wasn’t deep in peaceful sleep or eating like a madwoman, she was observing _everything_. You could be just holding her while working on the laptop and then you’d feel uncomfortably observed, look down, and see her eyes so intently fixed in you, without blinking, as if they could see through you. It was both adorable and nerve-wracking, depending on the moment. She was also the one to make the worst crying and the most sounds. Strike had a feeling that at her third day of life she had already mastered the art of crocodile tears.

On the other hand, Daniel was more the sleeper and the serious, even if babies at that age were usually serious since they didn’t quite know how to smile or laugh yet. He was very quiet, barely cried and you had to notice he was hungry by the way he seemed to be pouting and getting watery eyes. The twins were usually eating around the same time, and he seemed to have picked up on the fact that if his sister was already going to scream her eyes out, then why would he bother. Although he was less the person to focus on one thing for ours without blinking, which differenced him from his sister, he was more the person of just having an innate sense of curiosity, even if his attention spam lasted micro seconds. He was always looking everywhere and moving as much as his size and age allowed him. He turned his head so much to look at the next little sound, little bright, or whatever that called his attention (a fly, for example), that Robin had to hold his head steady while he breastfeed so he wouldn’t turn and stop eating every five seconds, until his mother’s hand keeping him from being curious pissed him off so much that he cried and then Robin had to quit breastfeeding until he was willing to focus on that, while if Sophie grabbed the nipple she wasn’t letting it go until she was full or throwing up, as if her life depended on it. Due to this, when it was Daniel’s turn Robin would usually go to a dark room alone and put him in a position where he couldn’t see many distracting things, so he’d focus and eat.

That’s why Strike wasn’t surprised when Daniel abandoned the nipple and turned to look at him the moment he entered the sitting-dining room.

“Hi baby” Robin smiled at him, hearing him before feeling Daniel’s lips leave her nipple.

“Hi” Strike smiled kissing her on the lips “you, back to your lunch dude.” He gently moved Daniel’s face back to eating, and caressed his tiny face softly until he closed his eyes and focused on his food. He stroke Sophie’s head while leaning to press a kiss on his aunt’s cheek “Hi Aunt Joan, how was the trip?”

“Long” Joan smiled at him. She was short, had some extra weight, her light brown hair long only to touch her shoulders, light makeup, kind, blue eyes, and in general a friendly appearance. She reminded Cormoran of a nice grandma, despite her not being more than twenty three years older than him, as Uncle Ted was twenty five years older and Leda only twenty four “how was that hearing?”

“Boring, exhausting, I don’t get why we’re punished by going.” Strike exaggerated rolling his eyes “How have they been?” He asked Robin as she admired his tie. It really turned her on when he was all elegant.

“Well, you know, Daniel slept till late and Sophie was content snuggling in bed with me until Lucy came to help out before everyone else arrived. But they’ve been good.” Robin assured “I loved your note this morning.” She added with love eyes, and Strike smirked.

Strike was surprisingly romantic in his own way. He liked to fight digitalization by leaving notes around the house whenever he had to go somewhere while Robin was sleeping. They were the size of medium-sized post-its and simple, but conveyed enough. This morning he had woken up extra early for the hearing and he had put a post-it of those glued to the headboard of the bed saying ‘ _Love you to Pluto and back and God, I wish you could see yourself when you sleep with the babies: way prettier photo than the sunset. See you ASAP, love, Corm._ ’

“Only the best for the best.” Strike limited to say, with a wink. He went around the room saluting Lucy, Greg and the children, Aria, Nick and Ilsa, Uncle Ted, Michael, Linda, Stephen with his wife of eight months, Emily, Jonathan and Martin. The house was pretty crowded, but everyone was helping: some were cleaning, others making lunch, others doing their laundry... everyone was trying to help the Strike-Ellacott family in the best possible way, which Strike appreciated, since the twins had come two weeks before they expected and he had had to set the cribs in record time when Robin came home while the children were in their car seats, and since with the frenetic search of Colin they had pretty much forgotten about the rest of the world, there was a lot in the house that hadn’t been taken care of, starting by ironing their clothes. They didn’t mind much in the moment, but now they were trying to keep everything organised because they knew, with the twins, by the time the disorder started bothering them the whole house would already be a complete ruin.

But since it was so crowded, they decided to move to the garden for lunch so it wasn’t claustrophobic, and they had a big round pretty exterior table outside. At the end, it was August and it was sunny and bright. Strike had already installed the pool, since it was good for his leg to swim a bit, and the nephews ran for it, having eaten before the adults so they fit on the table better.

“Will you play with us on the pool later Uncle Corm? We don’t mind your leg.” Jack asked-yelled from the water as Strike helped set the table. He looked at him surprised and then gave a nod.

“We’ll see Jackie.” That satisfied Jack enough and he smiled and went back to playing with his brothers.

“He worships you so hard.” Lucy smiled at him.

They all finally settled down in the table, the twins taking a nap in tiny electric cable-less rocking chairs for babies that they carried to the garden, and the table filled with noise as everyone found someone to talk with, getting to know each other better.

“Did you pass by the office before coming?” Robin asked Strike as he filled her glass with juice.

“Yeah, Ginny said the phone has been ringing non-stop since you found Colin, poor woman is overstressed. And Denmark Street is overcrowded with journalists. I told her to put in the website that we’re closing at lunch time during August and adjust to that new schedule, that she’ll earn the same as always despite cutting hours.”

“It’s the least we owe her, she’s kept the office together while we’ve been all over the place.” Robin nodded approvingly “My cell has been ringing too, with journalists. Told them I just gave birth and I’m rather busy to attend them.”

“At least Colin’s finally home and Mr Thomas was so grateful he paid a ton. I’d feel bad about accepting that much money if it wasn’t so convenient for us.”

“We have two extra super hungry mouths to feed and Superman didn’t, don’t feel so guilty.” Robin chuckled.

“So how was the hearing Corm?” Stephen asked while serving himself some chips “That bastard going to jail for long?”

“Well” Strike tried not to say more than he should, although at that point there wasn’t much to hide. The case had blown like a bomb and everyone knew pretty much everything “Ms Hedley claims she never imagined her husband would kill their son and a woman whose biggest crime was cheating her partner so he could give him the child they wanted, apparently it was a one-night stand. Mr Hedley defends himself, said his son kidnapped Colin and killed Dolores, that he killed him trying to protect her, and kept Colin safe himself and that he attacked us because he didn’t know we were with the police and thought we were trying to hurt Colin.” Robin spit her juice.

“What?” Robin said, indignant.

“Yeah” Strike nodded “I thought the same thing. Then I told them all we know, and character-profiled Hedley for them and well, they didn’t seem to believe Hedley much. Besides, they don’t really like the fact that a policeman, a child and a pregnant woman got hurt from this.”

“Hedley never really put a hand on me.” Robin reminded him.

“He threatened with killing you” Strike pointed “which includes our children, and then Colin. And he tried to kill me and Anstis.” Robin nodded.

“Police must be pissed though” Martin commented “you’re always one step ahead.”

“Yeah, first Wardle looking like an incompetent and now this.” Ilsa added.

“Well this time they’re less pissed, since Anstis got to participate. Plus, Anstis and I are good friends from the SIB so he wouldn’t stay pissed for long. I’m his son’s godfather.”

            They were mid lunch when the doorbell rang and Strike went to take it. He looked through the peephole first and frowned, surprised to see Jonny Rokeby.


	30. Jonny Rokeby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rokeby wants to hire Strike and Ellacott, will they accept?

“What the fuck are _you_ doing here?” Strike grumbled opening the door. There stood Rokeby, a bit older but still as attractive as always, and nothing like Strike.

            “So I take no hugs, uh son?” Rokeby seemed all calm.

            “Don’t call me that, you want to know how to earn calling someone a son? Stay one hour and see what I do with my children.” Strike glared at him. He hadn’t seen him in years “I’ll repeat it only once more, what are you doing here? How did you even know where we live?”

            “Al told me. I came because he also told me you could help me with something, since you are, and I quote him, ‘the best private detective in Europe, complete genius who takes no shit from anyone’.”

            “Oh, just like you helped me lending money and then squeezed until the last penny from me when I was at my worst economical times, refusing to wait a year or so until I could pay back like I swore I would?” Strike said sarcastically.

            “Look” Rokeby sighed “now’s your time for revenge then. You can squeeze me until the last penny for this job.”

            “Why would I want your money?”

            “Because I know you just had children, two right? Children are expensive.”

            “I’d rather starve myself for them than giving them anything I bought with your money. Besides, I don’t know if you’ve heard but clients and journalists are obsessed about my business these days, we’ll be swimming in money in no time at this rhythm. Caught three serial killers, one mad killer, and one of them even kidnapped a boy that my partner rescued safe and sound.” Strike said as egocentrically as possible “Divorces like those you so often have paid my TV, daddy.”

            “Everything alright son?” Uncle Ted came, a head bigger than Cormoran, just as broad, with thick curly dark brown hair like Strike’s, beard and green eyes. He was enormous and gray hair started to show, giving him an appearance of almost young Dumbledore “Robin was worried you weren’t back and you didn’t expect anyone.” He put a hand on Strike’s shoulder and turned to look at Rokeby “Oh, look who finally showed up” he snapped “doubt it’s to bring a present to the grandchildren uh?”

            “No he only knows to ask for things. He was just leaving.” Strike said, ready to shut the door.

            “Hear me out Cormoran” Rokeby put a hand on the door to keep it open “I’ll give you anything you want. If it’s not money, something else, anything.”

            “I’ve got everything I could ever want.” Strike said simply.

            “Wait Corm” Ted persuaded him “maybe you can gain something out of him. Let’s get him to Robin, you run the business together right? Get together and find a way of screwing him up a little although helping him.”

            “I don’t care about revenge Uncle Ted.” Strike sighed.

            “But you’ll regret it if it turns out this was a good chance to kick the balls of the guy that abandoned Leda.” Ted said. It was his sister after all “Just hear him and then kick him out.” Strike nodded and opened the door.

            “Come in before I regret it. Uncle Ted, find me Robin please.” Strike led Rokeby to the sitting room and they sat on opposite corners of the u-shaped sofa, facing each other with only the coffee table to separate them. Ted went to find Robin.

            “Nice place” Rokeby commented looking around. He pointed to a recent picture on a little round table by the sofa that had a lamp on top and a little framed picture of the twins “the kids?”

            “Yes” Strike looked seriously at him.

            “Pretty” Rokeby nodded “It’s weird to be a grandpa.”

            “You’re not” Strike corrected “my twins’ grandparents are their mother’s parents, my Uncle and my Aunt and Leda Strike.”

            Robin appeared walking calmly to them and smiled charmingly at Rokeby, shaking his hand.

            “Nice to finally meet you, Mr Rokeby.” Robin said politely. Strike raised an eyebrow, surprised, and Robin winked at him as she faced him and gave her back to Rokeby, going to sit beside Strike and hold his hand between hers “Corm’s Uncle told me you came to ask us a favour. So, what’s about?”

            “Oh, nice to see the boy married such a good woman. Good taste.” Rokeby commented with a smirk “Well, there’s a woman, Patrice Hawshake, who swears I’m her father. She’s 28, which means if she was right, which she isn’t, I’d have cheated on my wife, Jenny. She would never forgive me, and neither would our children, I’d lose my family and throw my reputation through the window.” Strike laughed.

            “Your reputation _is_ of a cheater.” Strike commented.

            “But I haven’t cheated in many years, people think different of me now and nowadays society has changed, what before would’ve been forgotten, now could ruin my career. My life.” Strike said “Besides, I don’t even know Hawshake’s mother. I swear I’m not her father, I’ve always been loyal to Danielle, as hard as it might be to believe, and I need you to help me prove I’m not her father. Investigate, do your thing, find the truth.”

            “A simple DNA test would do the trick Mr Rokeby.” Robin said.

            “I know, but according to my lawyers agreeing to that wouldn’t benefit my image either, it would imply I’m guilty, and even when the results proved the truth, the social opinion would be that I paid someone to change them.”

            “So you rather they know you paid someone to prove your innocence?” Strike looked incredulous “What’d you think they’re going to think?”

            “You have no reason to favour me and you’re famous for your integrity and compromise with the truth.” Rokeby said.

            “Okay” Robin pursed her lips “and why would we lose our time with this? We have an incredible amount of clients, we’ve been rejecting some lately because there’s simply no more time in our lives. And most of our cases are way more important than this.”

            “I’ll pay you all you want.” Rokeby said “Hundreds of thousands of pounds. Your children would appreciate it.”

            “We don’t want your money.” Robin said. Strike appreciated how she was on his side and thought the same as he did without consulting.

            “Then anything you want, there’s a lot at risk so...” Rokeby shrugged “Just ask.”

            “There’s nothing of you we could possibly want.” Strike said. Then the two babies started crying at once in the garden and the parents instinctively looked at the garden door.

            “Why don’t you go help out?” Robin suggested “you’re good at calming them down. I’ll finish things up with Mr Rokeby here.” There was something about Robin’s eyes that made Strike realise she wanted to be alone with Rokeby and since she trusted Robin blindly, he nodded and stood up.

            “Bye.” Strike said Rokeby and went to the garden. When he was out of sight, Robin moved to sit next to Rokeby and leant forward towards him.

            “There’s something else you can offer us in compensation for our services. But it’s something you’ll have to do, forcefully, by contract with a clause that disposes that if you don’t do it, we can abandon your case and throw away the whole investigation and you’ll have to pay us an economical compensation from violating our contract.” Robin said “I’ll make a lawyer be present when you sign it.”

            “Alright, what is it?” Rokeby asked.

            “Exactly one week before we give you the results of the investigation” Robin said “you’ll have to say in an exclusive interview for the BBC broadcasted live on primetime, as well as the radio under the same circumstances and the magazine Cosmopolitan, appearing in the front page, something that I write for you to say and that you’ll have, by contract, to say as if you had written it and mean it. You’ll be legally forbidden to ever deny your words, reveal our deal, or do anything to boycott any of it, etc. It’ll be in the form of an exclusive short announcement by Jonny Rokeby. I also will demand for you to publish and promote it in Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, and even your official website.” Robin said coldly, her smile disappearing and looking at Rokeby like a wolf at its food. Rokeby gulped.

            “Wait a moment... what would your paper be about?”

            “You’ll tell the truth, finally” Robin said “I will write the questions and the answers, I’ve got friends in Cosmopolitan and BBC who will buy it, no doubt. It’ll all be scripted and truthful. It’ll be about how you fucked Leda Strike and abandoned her, how she told you she was expecting and you ignored her, how you never lent a hand to her or to any of your other non-official children, never helped them, not even when you knew they could use a hand, that you never moved a finger to even communicate with Cormoran not when he lost his mother, not when he lost his leg, and you will tell the world how you offered him money for his business, he swore he’d pay back, and when he went broke and asked for more time, you refused to give it to him. You’ll show your true colours. And you will publicly apologize to him, to Leda, and to all the families you fucked up, all the other illegitimate children and women you’ve abandoned, for the damage you caused them, and the pain your put them through, and your negligence as a father. You’ll also apologize to the women you cheated on.”

            Rokeby laughed loudly.

            “Good one girl. Smart move but useless. That’ll ruin my life almost as much as Patricia could, and I could always hire another private detective...”

            “You said it yourself, almost as much, and you’ll get almost what you deserve. I actually think I’ll save your reputation and make you a huge good one, better than now, because people will see you as a man who at least had the nerve to say the truth and apologize. At least a part of your fans will see you that way. And you won’t go to another detective because no one’s as good and brilliant as your son, and everyone will think you offered them a lot of money to defend you, while with Cormoran, everyone will know he did it for free.” Robin said “Chose the worst of two evils, you’ve got a week. Then call me.” She gave him their card “Robin Ellacott.”

            “You damn...” Rokeby looked angry but took the card.

            “You better learn this lesson soon, Mr Rokeby” Robin said too nicely, in a way that was actually scary “I make justice. That’s my job. Uncover the truth. If we uncover the truth about Patrice, you’ll have to do the same about your past. And also, you’ll learn not to mess with my family. If any of them suffers because of you, sooner or later I’ll ruin your life.”

            “Alright. I’ll call you.” Rokeby stood up. Robin walked him to the door.

            “Have a good day, Mr Rokeby.” Robin said, shutting the door in her face “Jackass.” She muttered to herself with a satisfied smile and went back to the garden. Strike was holding both twins to sleep. Oddly enough, both twins seemed to calm instantly when Strike held them, as long as they weren’t hungry enough to rip his head off “All good?”

            “They were just lonely.” Strike said “What happened?” Robin told them everything and Strike was speechless, looking at her.

            “Oh my God” Lucy laughed loudly “and I thought my brother was brilliant, you are! Damn master genius, what a pair of ovaries! I’m your fan Robin.”

            “How...?” Strike frowned “This isn’t going to work Robin. We’re going to get in trouble. Plus, him doing this... it changes nothing! Means nothing to me, even less knowing it’s orchestrated...”

            “Baby, this isn’t for you to get an apologise” Robin explained “obviously, it means nothing. It’s worthless to you. This is so he’ll have to gulp his pride, screw himself and so the world knows the piece of shit he is. He wants for us to expose the truth right? Well, let’s damn do it.”


	31. Robin gives Rokeby a lesson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sweet morning in the Striking Household

Strike woke up with a moan. The first thing he saw was the white ceiling of their room, the light of the window on top of the headboard filtering through the curtains and illuminating the room a bit, but not enough to wake up exhausted parents and one month old children. Something else had awaken him and it took him a few seconds to recognize it, until he felt a pull from the hair in his chest and the fresh saliva on it. He looked down and saw Sophie gripped firmly between his arms, a hand gripping his chest hair with extraordinary strength as she salivated over his chest.

            He had slept shirtless lately because it was too hot and also because they slept with the babies and when they cried sometimes being against bare chest was enough to calm them down. Which is what Strike had done with Sophie at three in the morning that night.

            “Is that funny?” he whispered to Sophie before sighing and kissing her head “don’t worry burrito, your mother would probably appreciate a bit less hair there.” He commented softly caressing her tiny face. Her dark hair was starting to fall off, just like Daniel’s, as it generally happened to newborns, and it contrasted heavily with the dark mane on Strike’s chest. Strike turned to look at the clock on his nightstand and saw it was eight o’clock. Next to it sat a framed picture of Strike and a pregnant Robin kissing under a snowfall. He turned around and saw first Daniel sleeping next to him and Robin on the other side, facing them, sleeping and drooling over her arm, that extended over the pillow until her fingers almost touched Strike’s hair. That was one thing Robin did sometimes and that explained where the twins got it from: she softly grabbed and stroked Strike’s hair to sleep. The twins did it with his chest hair, only that they didn’t quite have control over their strength anymore. That way Robin brought herself and Strike to sleep when it got particularly complicated. He imagined she must’ve done it during the night, he didn’t even notice anymore.

            She looked exhausted, her red locks over her face and the other hand cupping Daniel’s feet under the blanket. She was particularly overprotective of him, who had just started to have a size similar to Sophie’s and who worried both of them the most with the smallest of things. Like one day he coughed because of some random reason and the couple spent half an hour looking at him as if he was going to die any second. Sophie was another story. Robin joked she practically raised herself.

            Sophie behaved in a way that Strike’s Uncle and Aunt said it reminded them of Strike as a baby, and except when she cried like a madwoman, she didn’t seem to need anyone. She even seemed to ignore people’s existence, except when the focus of her attention was one person, and could focus on the simplest things for hours. One day they’d find her staring intently at a toy, and she’d take hours to lose interest in it, not wanting for anyone to take it away in the meantime. That one behaviour wasn’t Strike’s, who as a baby was more like Daniel observing everything with small attention spam, it was just Sophie’s. But for the rest, they said she behaved like Strike. They certainly slept and ate with the same enthusiasm. Sophie was also the apple of Strike’s eyes. Well, it was wrong to talk of them having a favourite children, and Strike knew he felt the same about both kids, but he did seem to have an special understatement with Sophie, as if they just got along without effort.

            Strike slowly made his way up, putting Sophie next to her brother and a pillow in his place so she wouldn’t fall off the bed if she suddenly decided to learn to roll. He put his leg on and went to the bathroom to shower. By the time he had eaten breakfast and dressed up, his family was exactly the same, except that Sophie had fallen asleep with a hand grabbing Daniel’s onesie and Robin seemed to have subconsciously moved closer to them, the hand that was on Daniel’s feet now resting over Sophie’s legs. He smiled at them feeling more awake and in better mood and took a picture with his cell phone and then went to sit on the verge of Robin’s side of the bed.

            Robin’s nightstand contained her mobile phone, her watch, and a framed picture of Sophie and Daniel sleeping on the hairy chest of an also asleep Cormoran, who sat on the sofa with his head thrown back. There was also a book Strike didn’t remember having seen her read since the kids were born.

            “Love, wake up” Strike whispered leaning to rub the hair out of Robin’s face and kiss her face “come on sleepy head, up up.”

            “What” Robin grumbled with the eyes closed. She was the worst when she just woke up. She literally would eat breakfast with her eyes still closed and would answer with only one word or little sounds until she woke up fully after washing her face, teeth and putting her make up on. Even seeing her get dressed was a spectacle, listening to her sigh every five seconds during the process and look at her clothes as if they had caused her physical damage, with a pout. Strike was dreading waking up their teenage children if they were the same. Fortunately by the time Robin made it to the street, the fresh air seemed to make her a new person and she’d be working with addiction and wild abandon.

            “It’s eight in the morning baby” Strike said softly kissing her face “I’ve got to head to the office okay? Are you alright with the kids on your own?”

            “Yeah” Robin said turning to kiss him on the lips. They made out for a few seconds, softly, Strike not caring about the drool on her face or her morning breath. When he separated she sighed defeated, eyes closed, and Strike smiled at her.

            “Don’t come to work today if you don’t feel it, I can manage just fine.” He kissed her again.

            “Quickie?” Robin asked sleepily, and Strike laughed. Her vagina had recovered already after three weeks of zero activity for her (she was so attentive to give him a hand in the shower from time to time when he woke up with a morning wood) but now she was back in action, if only the children didn’t exhaust them.

            “You’re too sleepy for that.” Strike said.

            “Hop up?” Robin asked, and he laughed again.

            “No baby, I don’t want to use you as an inflatable toy and the children sleep next to you. But you rest good and maybe later?” She was already asleep. He imagined she must’ve had a nice dream and woke up still sleepy with the vague idea that he should be on top of her, not going to work.

            The phone ringing welcomed him into the office. Ginny seemed to have just arrived, putting her jacket in the rack.

            “Morning Cormoran” Ginny smiled at him.

            “How’s it going Ginny?” He side smiled at him and moved into the office, making himself a coffee.

            “Good” Ginny replied “how’s the miss and the kids?”

            “Asleep. Robin’s feeling better from her internal rip and will probably pass by later, she was just exhausted when I left, the kids woke up a hundred times tonight, you know how it is.”

            “Ah, damn yeah. But then one misses every second.” Ginny laughed softly.

            “Yeah” Strike nodded with a little chuckle, rubbing his chest where Sophie must’ve ripped a few hairs and it stung “I’m gonna marry her one day Ginny.” Ginny smiled sweetly at him.

            “I hope so.” With a satisfied smile, Strike nodded and went into his and Robin’s internal office “Ms Gareth’s coming in an hour!”

            Strike had given Rokeby the news that the investigation was complete the day before. It had been proven that he was being honest for once and that woman wasn’t his daughter, the mother didn’t even know who Rokeby was, Rokeby and Patricia looked nothing alike, and well, Patricia wasn’t too smart and Strike found an audio message he had sent someone telling them she knew that of course Rokeby wasn’t her dad, that her dad was a worker of the cleaning service. Strike had also located and interviewed said man and he had told him that of course he was Patricia’s father. The fact that father and daughter looked so alike didn’t help Patricia. Strike had no idea what Robin had made Rokeby say but he knew the contract, that Ilsa had checked herself, had him by the balls, and that Robin and Rokeby had met in the office several times -kicking Strike out for a couple hours each time- to agree on what Rokeby would say, that he had written his own words and Robin had only checked. That night his live interview would be broadcasted in the BBC channel and the next day BBC radio would put the exact same interview on the radio. There was already a post in his social accounts that Cosmopolitan would show, along with a transcript of Rokeby’s interview for the BBC, in the next day’s edition.

            So Strike sat on his chair and opened with satisfaction Rokeby’s facebook, to find a long post signed by him with digital signature. He proceeded to read it, his heart beating strongly.

            ‘ _I, Jonathan Leonard Rokeby, with full consciousness of my acts, would like to make a formal statement regarding the illegitimate children I have and the truth about my relationship to them. The reason of this at this time is that I’ve been thinking lately that it was time to come up with the truth before it blew in my face and I’d rather say it myself than have the story be distorted._

 _In the first place, I declare that I cheated on my ex-wife Shirley in 1974. I met Leda Strike when she was hired as a groupie for one of my concerts in New Year’s Eve of 1973, and we stayed in touch. I had sexual intercourse with Leda behind Shirley’s back and that lead to Leda becoming pregnant. She contacted me a few months later saying she was pregnant and I was the biological father, but I ignored her and all her attempts of contact me, choosing to give her my back. In 1974 she gave birth to a boy, Cormoran Blue Strike, who biologically, is my son and Leda’s. Leda informed me with an email the next day, but I deleted said email and pretended nothing happened. I kept turning my back on Leda and Cormoran and ignoring their existence until her death, murdered by Jeff Whittaker on 1994. Even after this, I didn’t contact Cormoran at all, nor offered him any kind of help or comfort. I’ve never visited Leda’s grave. I kept refusing to pay attention to his existence and life, and only accepted to recognize him as my son when ADN testing happened. When Cormoran Strike became a SIB and lost his leg in an explosion in Afghanistan, I didn’t change my behaviour, I didn’t contact him, I didn’t help him. The one time we spoke was little after that when he was hoping to open his office in Denmark Street as a Private Detective. He was struggling financially after all the money that his physiotherapy, surgeries and treatments had required and my lawyers thought it’d make me look good to offer him money when he was a war hero. So that’s what I did, pressured by my lawyers. Cormoran refused to accept my money unless it was as a lending, swearing to return it as soon as he could. After only a few months, when he was sinking in debts and I knew it, due to his lack of clients, I decided I wanted my money back and had my lawyers rudely call him 24/7 threatening with leaving him on the street if he didn’t gave me my money already, for several weeks. He asked for more time, explained his situation to me, I didn’t listen. The only reason he was able to pay me was because of the Lula Landry case, that paid off his debts, and he never contacted me again and neither did I. Even if recently Cormoran became a father of twins, I never sent any presents to those children nor showed any interest on the family, and this will most likely never change, since it’s too late now. I’ve had nothing to do with his life ever despite the many opportunities I had to do things right, and he’s the man he is today, being famous for all the justice he’s made, the killers he’s caught and the child, Colin, that his business partner and he found, because Leda raised him all alone and did an outstanding, good job as a mother._ ’

There were similar paragraphs about each illegitimate child of his, until it lead to the last paragraph, that Strike read shaking with excitement.

‘ _I’d only like to say I’m sorry I’ve behaved so terribly to all of you. I’m glad you turned out okay, even when that’s for sure not because of me. I have no excuse for my behaviour, it’s simply depreciable. Have good lives._ ’

Strike laughed out loud and quickly googled Rokeby, only to find dozens of articles and comments of the fans harshly criticizing him and dragging him down to hell. He couldn’t feel happier, not even when during the day, the other illegitimate children posted their stories online, completing the information Rokeby had given and dragging him further, and not even when he was interviewed that night by the BBC and Lucy’s family, Robin and the twins joined him in the sofa to watch the interview.

“So you’re saying you haven’t cared in the slightest for a man that was left alone in the world with only twenty years old, that lost his leg while saving a fellow SIB in Afghanistan, and that has done incredibly heroic actions during the past couple years?” the interviewer asked, incredulous.

“That’s exactly right.” Rokeby nodded. The interviewer looked shocked and Strike blushed.

“Why saying all of this right now, Mr Rokeby? Are you boycotting your career?”

“Well” Rokeby sighed “I met Cormoran Strike’s partner and mother of his children recently when I needed their professional help. I offered them a lot of money that he refused, they only wanted to hear the truth. His partner only acceded to convince him of taking the job if I said the truth, otherwise they wouldn’t. Of course I could’ve gone to any Private Detective in England and America, I can afford the best of the world... but while talking to her I discovered a person with an enormous heart who was only saying if I wanted for them to prove I was honest about another private topic, then I needed to be honest about everything. And she showed me that it could be a good thing to me, that maybe I’d be more loved by my fans if they knew the real man, that maybe I’d feel better about myself after coming clean... something in me told me I’m old and I don’t want to keep living a lie for what’s left of me to live. I think we should all be more honest in the world and I figured these people deserve it the most so instead of going to someone more famous in New York or something, I decided to accept the inevitable. At the end, if it hadn’t been this way, I would’ve probably ended up doing this anyway in a few years, the stress of hiding so many things and keeping my illegitimate children’s voices shut for so many years was too much for my health at this age.” He sounded honest, truthful, and like a complete jerk.

“You’re conscious the world thinks pretty low of you at this moment, aren’t you?” the interviewer said.

“Yes, I’ve seen in the last few hours” Rokeby nodded “but like Robin Ellacott reminded me, truth finds us all sooner or later. Not even their murderers could hide forever, not even Martin Hedley, I’d be a fool if I didn’t think sooner or later a journalist would expose me. And I can’t live with that fear any longer. I need to be responsible and consequent with my actions and face what comes with that. I lost many of my children because of this, and I can’t even be a grandpa to the first grandchildren I’ve had. Robin was kind to show me pictures and I figured... maybe it isn’t too late to redeem oneself, right? I can’t recover them... but I can satisfy them by saying the truth and stop shutting their voices up.”

“He’s saying the truth, you know? I didn’t tell him to say any of that.” Robin commenting, nursing Sophie. Strike looked at her, incredulous “We only prepared the statement he wrote, it’s in the contract. The rest, comes from himself. I told him he could say I forced him, that I’d risk it and wouldn’t try to avoid it, but that he had a chance of doing something right for once in his life. I showed him the pictures of the children, I told him he didn’t seem the kind of man we’re used to punishing. That he could prove his children he wasn’t that much of a jerk. He cried his eyes out.” Robin assured.

“He’s a good actor.” Strike shrugged. Robin smiled at him softly.

“You know how good I recognize liars and I assure you, he was honest. He told me every story about every child of those in private, part by part, all the truth. Then he wrote his paper, I checked it once, and didn’t make a single correction in it. I didn’t intervene really when he wrote it. I was just sitting there. And the last time I saw him, he thanked me for pushing him to do this.” Robin revealed.

“Fuck, you’re...” Lucy started.

“Incredible.” Strike finished, leaning to kiss her “You broke a jerk.” Robin laughed.

“I’m not saying this makes him a good man now... but he’s 64. He has journalists up to his ass. He was honestly sick of having to worry about this coming out any day, and he knew when he died, it would happen anyway, so he figured he could do it now and maybe be remembered a bit better than only as the jerk he is.”


	32. Anniversary celebrations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strike and Robin get family to babysit so they can have fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, sorry for the lack of posting, my summer's hectic and I just got a wrist injury and using the computer has gotten a little tricky. There's a bit of porn in this one, but it's marked.

On November 16th, the twins were three months old, Hedley had been in prison for the first three months of the rest of his life, that he’d also spend there, and it was Robin and Strike’s first anniversary. That day a year ago they had made their relationship official. Robin woke Strike up with sex as the twins slept in their crib for one night, then Strike made breakfast and he brought it to bed, they took the day off work and brought the kids for a picnic in the park to commemorate their second date for lunch, and then Strike took her to a restaurant for the most expensive dinner of his life, with the views of the Thames and London, while the twins stayed with Lucy and Greg for the night.

They were calmly laughing and enjoying their first night out since they had become parents when Strike pulled a square box and handed her over the table.

“What’s this?” Robin looked at her with a suspicious glance and a smile and opened the box, beautifully wrapped. Robin was stunning herself, with the necklace Strike gifted her and her green dress, that fitted her again as she had lost some of the earned with the pregnancy weight “I thought we said no presents, I didn’t get you anything?”

“Anything? As if pushing two kids out of your vagina was nothing, not to mention your sole existence.” Strike smiled lovingly. Robin smiled sweetly at him before removing the lace from the little elegant box and opening it. She observed inside there was only what seemed like a small handmade book with a simple leather cover sewed by hand, joining a small number of small pages, handwritten.

“What...?”

“You used to complain I didn’t speak my heart enough, and I don’t want to be like that anymore, at least not with you. So I made this, the children helped.” Strike said. The first page simply said ‘The best year of my life’ with Strike’s handwriting. Robin passed the page and saw a picture of the very first date Strike and Robin had, a selfie in which Robin put a stupid face to her phone as Strike kissed her on the cheek. Robin passed the page and read in silence:

_Two years ago all I had was a thousand debts, a horrid bed in my office, a broken heart and pure loneliness. I had a sister with whom I could hardly talk, a brother-in-law who feared me and three nephews that had no reason to love me and with whom I didn’t know how to be._

_As cliché as it is, you’ve changed my life forever, Robin Venetia. When you came, my (now our) business took off and started keeping itself a float with ease. A part of me believes that it was you who kept it and myself a float for a number of years and I know without you, we’d both probably sink again. Not just because you organise things at the office better than I ever could, know how to properly use a computer, make sure there’s coffee and let me know when I’m starting to look too much like a vagabond, but because you fill the business and myself with so much love it’s impossible for us to not work well. Your perfume and the warmth of the heater you bought makes our clients enter more at ease and feel more comfortable, when you chat with my sister you make it look like it’s the easiest thing in the world, and when we’re in bed and you’re reading while stroking my hair as I have my cheek on your chest until I fall asleep, I feel the luckiest bastard in the world._

There was a picture of them during Christmas, chatting and laughing sitting on the sofa, all lovey eyes and absentminded need to keep a hand touching the other somehow.

_You’re the one I was meant to find. With you, this past year I’ve felt like we were rewriting out destinies in the stars, owning the world and getting what we deserve, being just you and me in our asphyxiating nest, and finding a home together. It’s just up to you and me, no one saying what we get to have or not. And you made it all so easy._

_This year has been the happiest, most unbelievable thing to me. This year has been a life I never dared to imagine, to think that I’d be one of the lucky ones, and I’m so happy you got pregnant because it led to us living together in our beautiful home. It’s the first home I’ve ever had. You, Sophie and Daniel, in this space filled with more and more great memories every day, smelling your scent in every room and feeling so grateful to you and the heavens for changing my life and getting me into this wild and perfect adventure. You really must be the best detective there is, because you found the way do to all of that and more, impressing my friends and family, and myself. And you’re the first girlfriend I’ve had who doesn’t act as if being with me requires enormous amounts of effort, sacrifice and sucking it up._

Then there was another picture, one of chubby three months old Sophie and Daniel with attempts of smiles and animal onesies.

_I just want you to know how truly grateful I am every day just to see you exist in this world and bring so much light into Daniel, Sophie and my life. Just seeing how high you fly and how much you’re achieving and the happiness that it gives you to make your dreams come true gives me the boost I need every day, makes me so happy. Getting to be your boyfriend and the father of your children has been the greatest achievement of my life so far, Robin. Thank you, for believing in me and giving me the world. I love you, and even those words don’t seem enough to muster all I feel for you._

_But I want to promise you to always try my hardest to make you just as joyful and more if possible, I promise to always look after you and our children, to always be there, to always love you all. I promise more breakfasts in bed, more massages after long days, more bed time stories, more silliness and laughter. I promise to respect you and cherish you, to fight for you and care for you, to love you. For the rest of my life. Happy first anniversary, of hopefully, so many more, my love._

_Your grizzly bear, always._

It ended with a picture of the four of them sitting together in bed, snuggled up, as Robin read a bedtime story and the twins snuggled up in Strike’s big arms. Robin only realised she had been crying silently when a tear fell on the table. She sniffled loudly putting the book back in its box and walked to Strike without a word, sitting on his lap and grabbing his face between her hands and pressing their foreheads together.

“You are absolutely perfect, Cormoran Blue.” She sobbed out “I can’t even find the words to express how much you mean to me and how happy you make me, but this present is the best one I’ve ever gotten aside from the twins and you. You’re already perfect Corm, you don’t need to try any harder. Of all things in the world, I love you the most and always will.” She kissed him, trying to convey all she couldn’t find words to say, and he kissed her back enthusiastically.

***From here to next mark is explicit erotic content. They’re celebrating guys, come on.***

There was a trail of clothes leading upstairs, and Strike’s back was pressed against their bedroom door as he fumbled for the door knob with one hand behind his ass, Robin having already jumped on him with her legs around his lips, kissing him passionately with her arms firmly around his neck. When she jumped on him he had stumbled with his pants, that were down to his knees, and his leg, and the door had served to prevent them from falling. Robin had already ripped his shirt off -buttons had flown downstairs- and was busy leaving nail marks -the best ones- on his upper back, while he had unceremoniously removed her dress, which lied, along with her heels, somewhere in the middle of the stairs.

He could feel his hard on pressing against Robin’s underwear through his own boxers and pants, he had even shaven down there thinking it was unfair Robin shaved to make his life easier -although he really didn’t mind and Robin had said something about feeling more hygienic when she was shaved during her period, that had just passed- and he wouldn’t, and also thinking it looked better without his usual mane. Robin’s moans against his mouth did things to him that made him think that unless he opened the door and fucked her soon, he was going to cum right there.

He finally opened the door and prepared to fall on his ass, but Robin had it covered, quickly jumping off him and pushing him backwards to the bed. He yelped as he fell on his ass but on the mattress, and Robin looked at him like a hungry lion, undoing her bra -Strike appreciated it, his big fingers could undo it just fine, but he always panicked a little with the mere thought that this time it wouldn’t work- which made her freckled breasts bounce a little as she jumped on him again, making his back hit the mattress and kissing him passionately again.

“Rob... love” Strike mumbled against her lips pulling apart “let’s get rid of my leg first?” Robin chuckled.

“That sounds so gore.” She whispered before biting his neck, which made his hard on get even harder, and moving away “I’m on it, don’t worry.” She stood up, moment in which Strike smirked seeing a dark spot in Robin’s underwear indicating her wetness. He propelled himself up with his elbows just enough to see her kneel to carefully remove his pants along with his leg, with which Robin was always extra careful. He’d usually do the removal himself, but sometimes Robin did it. That way his big bulge was all visible and Robin chuckled, caressing it over his boxers “I should probably check this out, just to investigate and make sure is not some strange lump...” She commented nonchalantly, making Strike laugh and raise an eyebrow.

 “Sure, safety first.” Strike conceded. She almost ripped the black boxers off and his erection bounced against his lower abdomen in all its extension. Robin looked at it with a satisfied expression before grabbing it delicately and nonchalantly sucking under the shaft, right by the balls “Oh dear God...” Strike let his head fall back against the mattress, moving a hand to her head.

“I’ll show you God” Robin said smirking. She felt dirty and she loved it. She used to hate the idea of sex for many years after she was raped. It was pretty hard to go back to it after that, with Matthew, but finally she did it. He had good magic hands that made her pupils go backwards, and he wasn’t so bad with his tool, but for some reason it never got her particularly excited. He was always the one to initiate sex and she just went along. But with Strike, it was completely different. He was big but knew perfectly well how to use it, and he was well-mannered, always put her first, always caring for her and asking for consent, he made her _want_ to please him, not just do it because it was fair or what she was somehow supposed to do. He was so gentle and loving and soft it was heart-warming, and his hands, oh his hands. After a year making love to him -and a little longer, she thought blushing- she knew Ciara Porter was being fully honest when she complimented his skills. She pretty much knew since the first time she felt him inside. With Strike, she looked forward to sex. She knew what her friends talked about, she always came with him and it was always at least a couple times, sometimes more, and she didn’t even know if it was just the skill or if the fact that she was head over heels for him influenced. She felt herself horny all the time for the first few months living with him, and she found himself thinking of him in dirty ways pretty often. She just wanted all of him, and was always satisfied with him. Plus, he was the most considerate lover. Even when he was hard as a tree, if she wasn’t feeling alright because her period surprised her, he wouldn’t even ask, he’d just go take a cold shower and jack off, which made her feel like Cleopatra, all powerful making him that desperate without even trying. Sometimes when she had her period she would just put a tampon on and do oral because even she got impatient sometimes.

She prepared to take him in her mouth.

“You don’t have t-mmmm...” Robin smirked while sucking, making sure her teeth scratched him gently at time, to which she could feel him twitch a little. She used to hate suck dicks. She never did Matthew if she could avoid it. The first time she did with Strike it was mostly just to check if she could, and she found herself thinking that it was probably the best feeling one could get while sucking a cock. She knew he was pretty hygienic with it, which helped, but it also didn’t taste that awful -even if she never let him cum in her mouth, not that he had expressed any desire to do so- and there was something about the warmth in her mouth and knowing he was loving it that she loved “Robin, Robin, stop!” Strike asked suddenly.

“Did I do something wrong?” Robin asked concerned, letting him fall off her mouth.

“No, is just that I’m going to cum too soon and I haven’t even tasted you yet.” Strike laughed “God I’ve been hard since I saw you walk out of the door.”

“That was four hours ago” Robin said impressed. They had even had a romantic walk around the Thames, and he didn’t seem bothered.

“I know.” Strike smiled “I was having too much fun to rush home.” Robin smiled moving to sit on his face carefully. His hands were quickly doing magic on her and soon his tongue joined, his hands on her ass cheeks pressing her to him as she moaned loudly. She felt as if she had peed herself, Strike always made her wetter than any other man ever. So wet it was uncomfortable. And she had felt herself in the vibe already just by seeing him with a suit.

Shortly after, she moved to straddle him and he sat to suck her nipples. She sometimes sucked his too, which no women had ever done to him and he found himself getting pretty hard at that, which made him revalue the pleasure he could give her with that. She held his dick pressed against her entrance, and sank, moaning loudly.

**End of the erotic part ;)**

**. . .**

After a quick breakfast and other things in bed, Strike and Robin reached to pick up the twins. It was already almost lunch time and Robin drove quickly to Bromley through the busy streets of London.

“Do you think they miss us?” Strike commented.

“Are you kidding me? They’ll be crying their eyes out. With how observant they are, bet they realised we were gone two seconds after we dropped them off, and you know how they get when they can’t get in bed with us.”

“When did Lucy say it was right to put them in the crib?” Strike commented.

“Around the eight months. Come on, you’ll miss it.” She added when he groaned, with a smile.

They could hear their crying from the door.

“Please do something.” Jack made them laugh as he opened the door with a face of devastation. It was Saturday so the kids were home.

“Don’t worry kid” Strike ruffled his hair and followed Robin to the sitting room, where each parent was trying unsuccessfully to calm one kid.

“Oh, come here little monkey” Robin reached her hands to Sophie, who changed her cries to crocodile sobs as Robin kissed her head and rubbed her back. Strike had a theory that Robin’s perfume relaxed them as much as it relaxed him.

“Where’s the other burrito?” Strike asked, and Greg handed him Daniel “Hey you, daddy and mommy came to the rescue.” Strike said rocking him as he calmed down.

“All was good” Lucy said “until it was time to go to bed. When they saw you weren’t coming, they started panicking, so we bribed them with some milk and they fell asleep and when they woke and saw you weren’t here yet...”

“That was at six, just to be clear” Greg sighed.

“God we’re so sorry, if we had known we would’ve come right away...” Robin looked guilty.

“Yeah, we’re sorry.” Strike added moving to see Sophie and kiss her head.

“Which is precisely why we didn’t call” Lucy explained “you would’ve come right away and you were supposed to be having adult celebrations for one night. Plus, we offered, and we’re their family and we love spending time with them.”

“Yeah, it’s okay if they cry a little.” Greg added, nodding.

“A little?” Harvey mumbled exhaustedly from the sofa.

“Oh, don’t be so melodramatic, you were way worse and your Uncle never hesitated to babysit.” Lucy rolled her eyes.

“Really?” Robin smiled at Strike “I can’t imagine you babysitting before them.”

“I’m a box full of surprises.” Strike chuckled.

“So how did it go? Tell me everything!” Lucy hurried Robin, who laughed. Strike and Greg looked at each other.

“The Arsenal is playing now.” Greg motioned to the TV and Strike sighed in relief, nodding and walking to the TV.

He was twice as grateful when he noticed Robin, blushing, whispering things to Lucy in the kitchen while nursing a glass of wine, and he saw she was doing a little hand gesture that without a doubt, and judging by Lucy’s own blush, referred to his dick.


	33. Marry me at the World's End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The title says it all!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Thank you so much for your reviews. My wrist is doing better, and I am always thankful and blessed to get reviews and see what all of you think. If you wish to, I have a tumblr (https://thetrunkofthenighttraveler.tumblr.com/) where I often talk about my fics, or post content fandom related, if you want to check it or talk to me there, feel free!  
> Hugs!

Strike was busy at work with Robin one morning, their last day of work before Christmas. The twins were playing in their mat on a corner of the office, trying to learn to get their heads up, roll or something, as their parents focused in their computers doing research on their respective cases. Strike sighed leaning back, tiredly, as he looked over at the kids, that made funny noises while trying not to slam their faces on the mat, and he smiled at them. They didn’t usually bring the children to work, only when no visits where scheduled or the ones that were, were children friendly. If someone came unexpectedly that could endanger the children, they had an evacuation plan.

            He moved his eyes to Robin, loving her ‘I’m all focused and I’m going to kick your ass, jerk’ face, and had an idea. He went to Google and wrote ‘Private Detective Robin Ellacott’. To his satisfaction, a bunch of links came up with all the cases she had been a star in, and he smiled proudly. Then, his attention was called by a link from last August that read ‘Famous detective Cormoran Strike welcomes twins with long time business partner Robin Ellacott’.

            He clicked on the link and saw a photo of a very pregnant Robin standing on the street talking with Strike, engrossed in some interesting conversation that had them laughing. Clearly someone had sneaked it around their neighbourhood. He proceeded to read the article of the Cosmopolitan.

            _Cormoran Strike, known for being one of Jonny Rokeby’s illegitimate children, the son of 70’s Cornish groupie Leda Strike and war hero amputee hired Robin Ellacott, born in Masham, Yorkshire, in 2010 as a secretary, according to anonymous fonts. Until her arrival, his business as a Private Detective wasn’t quite working, but Ms Ellacott’s help led to the arrest of John Bristow for the murder of his sister model Lula Landry shortly after. With such murder, a romantic love story, that we’ll uncover for you today, started._

_‘Robin was always with him’ Matthew Cunliffe, then Robin’s fiancé, told our journalists in an exclusive interview ‘she loved that job and I always suspected they both felt something for each other. You could see there was something special there.’_

_However, Robin Ellacott would become Ms Matthew Cunliffe in July, 2011, while Mr Strike broke his engagement to socialite Charlotte Campbell, who would later marry Jago Ross, in 2010, and date other women until mid 2011. Theirs seemed then an impossible story._

_‘Strike fired her’ Mr Cunliffe told us ‘he was angry at her for something she did during the investigation of the crazy guy who sent her a leg. That case had us all really stressed and worried.’_

_‘It was crazy’ a neighbour from Denmark Street, where Strike’s office is, told us about such times ‘I saw him all alone, all sad and serious. But he had been really worried about her getting killed by the maniac, you could see. I don’t know what happened for him to fire her, but it must’ve been big, because they were always together until then. You could tell they loved working together. But I’m sure Robin never cheated on her boyfriend though, and I’m sure Strike never made a move, either. When you talked with them it was as if everyone knew there was something in the air except for themselves.’_

            There was another picture of them sitting together at a pub, chatting while being very close to each other.

            _However, as impossible as it seemed, the couple reconciled shortly after Ms Cunliffe’s wedding, when Ms Cunliffe was working for the police into proving Mr Strike was guilty of murdering Mr Jared Heifsner. Reportedly, Ms Cunliffe dropped the case when Mr Strike was arrested, choosing instead to work in his side and prove his innocence._

_‘She’d be here every day, when he was in prison’ another neighbour from Denmark Street told the magazine ‘she’d ask us questions, she seemed stressed. She went around saying she’d get him out of there, swearing he was innocent. No one believed in him more than her, I’m telling you. And then I know she was there in the hospital all the time when he got shot, with him.’_

_Robin and Matthew would divorce shortly after, that November._

_‘We separated right after Strike was arrested’ Mr Cunliffe told us ‘She seemed to realise she wanted him while fighting with me. Our fights had increased a lot. I guess the last straw was when I believed in Strike’s culpability and she didn’t. She asked me for the divorce and only came back to pick up her stuff. Then I’ve only seen them to sign the divorce papers in November.’_

_According to multiple witnesses that wish to stay anonymous, Ms Ellacott went to live in the attic Mr Strike had above his office. Then she’d accompany Mr Strike there when he was released from the hospital, and they lived together ever since, to later be seen acting romantic around London. Witnesses also indicated that Strike and Ellacott tended to travel a lot together, supposedly to investigate further about their cases, and Mr Strike even accompanied her for Christmas that year. In 2012 it was noticeable Ms Ellacott was visibly pregnant._

_‘Strike was the father, of course’ a witness said ‘he was an overprotective wolf around her, you could see. Kiddos were born in August, right after the Colin kid was found, she was taken straight to the hospital from the crime scene. I heard they had twins, they bought a big house together and everything.’_

_We wish all the best to our favourite couple of heroes in London._

            “What an invasion of privacy” Strike mumbled “have you seen this?” he asked Robin, who looked at him from her computer.

            “What?” Strike gestured for her to come and she read the whole thing, frowning.

            “I don’t know if I should feel touched or pissed off, this is an absolute invasion of privacy!”

            “That’s exactly what I said...”

            “Well, I’m going to kill Matthew. Damn hypocrite, always criticizing journalists who wrote about celebrities and now look...” Then Daniel squeaked smiling at her from his mat and her angry expression melted into one on absolute adoration “Aw, who’s mama’s best boy? Who’s the most perfect handsome little prince?” her voice got all high pitched and she ran to grab Daniel. Strike laughed and rolled his eyes “They aren’t too far from the truth though” Robin commented nonchalantly while she rocked Daniel, who grabbed her blouse and filled her neck with saliva “I was crazy about you.”

            “Still are.” Strike chuckled.

            “Oh, shut it.” Robin rolled her eyes but smiled. Strike got up and hugged her from behind. Sophie was too busy in the mat to even look at them. He kissed her on the cheek.

            Later that day, they drove all the way to Cornwall for the holidays with Strike’s family, although Robin’s parents came too, since they had never seen Cornwall. Robin’s parents had arrived to London the day before and now Strike led the way, driving through the vast green fields filled with cows with a smile in his face, the Ellacott’s car behind. Robin, who had also never seen Cornwall, had her eyes stuck to the window like a little child, making noises of amazement every few minutes, and the twins slept peacefully in the backseat. Strike hadn’t visited his Uncle and Aunt in years, despite the open invitation to do so anytime. Lucy and Greg had that year with them too, and were already there.

            Cormoran’s uncle and aunt had a big, beautiful, countryside house on a huge land a bit in the outsides of St Mawes, although you could be in downtown in only a few minutes, walking. The house was near St Mawes’ castle, in the middle of a vast green field, in front of a narrow road, one of St Mawes’ beaches right in front of them.

            “Holy cow!” Robin yelled getting out of the car, the cold wind making her hair a mess. The views were absolutely incredible and there was no snow there “This place is heaven!” Strike laughed going to get the children.”

            “Woah!” Michael commented after parking next to them, on a side of the house “Outstanding!”

            “It’s better in summer though, but now there’s less people.” Strike commented, one baby seat in each hand.

            “What’s up fam?” Lucy arrived with her coat, the window making her hair fly in the air, a huge grin and her thickest Cornish accent on. Their accents always got surprisingly thick after two days in St Mawes. She quickly hugged Robin “I missed you!”

            “I missed you more!” Strike rolled his eyes at Robin.

            “Come on, let’s get inside before instead of babies we have stalactites.” Strike rushed walking to the house.

            A warm chocolate mug before bed was all they needed to warm up. Then, Strike took Robin and the twins for a romantic walk under the stars, around the beach, their fingers interlaced and one kid on one arm.

            “I’ve never seen something so gorgeous.” Robin said speechless as they sat on the sand, snuggled up with their children, looking at the moon.

            “Me neither.” Strike whispered, his eyes fixed on her while hers fixed on the ocean.

            Strike woke Robin around five in the morning on Christmas day.

            “I’m going to kill you.” Robin said as Strike hurriedly took her to the car “Is still night outside! And freezing! And Christmas! And what about the kids?”

            “Lucy has it handled, I talked with her last night” Strike said “come on I swear you’ll love it.”

            “Of course I will, on top of it all. That’s why I hate you.” Robin groaned.

            She fell asleep in the car and had no idea where they were when they parked. She only knew it was incredibly windy and cold, and in a zone of cliffs. Strike made her walk kilometres with the cold and wind. He was in a suspiciously good mood. The sun was starting to rise over the ocean when they made it to the verge of the cliff. Robin felt vertigo and stepped back. The cliff was huge. The place, between the big wind and the darkness and the cold, looked like a perfect place to get murdered.

            “The fuck Corm” she said in all seriousness. He was limping but smiled wider, hugging her from behind and kissing her cheek.

            “Don’t be pissed please. I would’ve loved to take you here in summer, but I couldn’t resist doing it today. It’s part of my Christmas present. Look.” She looked on in the ocean and saw the sun already making them orange, half sun out of the ocean. She rolled the eyes and grinned big, leaning into his hug. He had taken her to the most impressive place she had ever seen just to see the sunrise together on Christmas morning. Even if his leg was probably killing him. She couldn’t stay mad at him.

            “Oh God Corm...” she turned to kiss him “thank you. This is perfect.”

            “Don’t miss it.” Strike kissed her again and they both stood, seeing the sunrise and hearing the ocean crashing against the cliff angrily. The sun had separated from the ocean and was fully illuminating their faces, showing the colours of all the flowers around them and giving them a jaw dropping view, when she stopped feeling Strike behind her and turned around. She gasped and brought her hands to her mouth, her eyes already watery, when she saw Strike was on one knee, a tiny box opened in his hands to show a silver ring with an oval emerald, not as big as the sapphire Matthew had given her, but Robin didn’t even notice or cared. The silver formed a braid on the side of the emerald, leaving the emerald in the middle of it and, on each side of the emerald, the braid had the tiniest diamond, almost imperceptible. Robin didn’t even want to think how much it had cost “Green fits you better.” Strike grinned, his blue-green eyes, now looking greener and watery, shinning as the sun faced him. Robin muffled a sob with her hands “Robin, I love you so much, I can’t imagine my life without you and these children. I know we haven’t been together for that long, but I’m sure as hell I want to spend my whole life with you. You’re the best thing I’ve ever known, and way more gorgeous than all of this. The children told me nothing would make them happier than you accepting their Christmas present and, to be honest, nothing would make me happier either. So, Robin Venetia Ellacott... would you marry me?”

            Robin nodded, tears falling freely down her cheeks, and she sobbed loudly, reaching her hands to cup Strike’s face.

            “Yes!” Robin sobbed out “yes, of course!” Strike laughed-cried and put the ring on her finger before standing up. She jumped on his arms and they kissed as Strike spun her a little, ignoring the murdering pain in his leg.

            “Merry Christmas Robin.” Strike whispered, their foreheads pressed against each other, their arms all around the other, as the sun hit them fully.

            “Merry Christmas Corm.”

**. . .**

            They didn’t appear home until it was lunch time, when they joined the rest of the family at a restaurant in St Mawes, in front of the beach. They had been all around Cornwall, Strike wanting to take her to the Tintagel Castle’s ruins -she was a huge fan of King Arthur’s legends- and his favourite childhood places, plus making love in the car, before they went to have lunch. Only Lucy knew what they had been doing, since the previous night, and she had swore to keep the secret. The Herberts, who had come back to St Mawes to visit their families during the holidays too, like every year, were also invited for lunch and only Cormoran and Robin were missing.

            “So they just vanished?” Ilsa was asking, bouncing Daniel on her knee.

            “They’re fucking like rabbits” Nick whispered between grilled teeth, and Ilsa was the only one to hear him, and elbow him on the ribs.

            “It’s weird they aren’t crying.” Jack looked at his cousins apprehensively.

            “There they are” Joan said. Robin had a hand around Strike’s hip and he had an arm on her shoulders to help himself walk, as he was limping heavily. They both looked so happy it cost effort not to laugh, their eyes shining over the bags under them, their faces bright with joy. Lucy gasped-screamed when she noticed the ring on Robin’s finger. Without saying a word, she smiled as big as she physically could and put the back of her left hand in front of her face. The family took a few seconds to catch it, but once they did, it was as big of a chaos as when they told them they were expecting.

            “...and then I turn around and there he is, on one knee.” Robin was telling everyone a while later, grinning tearfully at Strike, who just smiled absorbed on her.

            “Aw, who knew my brother was so romantic!” Lucy sobbed.

            “Okay bro, you just ruined our proposal story.” Nick laughed. Robin put her arms around Strike’s neck and kissed him deeply.

            “My perfect knight in shining armour.” Robin whispered against his lips “And then he took me to Tintagel, and all these wonderful places, it was perfect. And the ring is the most perfect... the two diamonds for the kids and all.”

            “You must’ve hurt your leg loads though...” Ted commented.

            “Who cares...” Strike smiled leaning for another kiss.


	34. Soldier down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More drama!

Strike had insisted that Robin had the January wedding she had dreamed with since she was a child, starting the year off right, and then they decided to get married as soon as possible, but January of 2013 seemed too early for all the planning, so they fixed the date on January 14th 2014, called the venue Robin knew she wanted, and booked it. Strike was content just seeing her have her dream wedding, with all she wanted, since he had never dreamed in his best of dreams of getting married and even less to Ms Perfect. He intervened in other stuff from time to time, as to not give her all the job and show that he cared too.

            On June 15th, Strike was engrossed on a case. Robin had left hours ago to be home with the twins, that now had a babysitter, and put them in bed. They were just learning how to crawl, close to a year old. Their hair had gotten lighter brown and longer, but still really short, and their eyes were turning the same colour as Strike’s, while their cheeks were covered in freckles. Sophie was looking more like Cormoran in face shape, except for the big cheeks and Robin’s dimples, that both kids had, and Daniel, more like Robin. And they were gorgeous.

            “Finally” Strike emailed the results of his investigation to his latest client. It was already almost midnight. He sighed and grabbed his coat, hurrying to leave the office. They had walked to the office that day, so Strike hurried to take the metro, taking the fastest route by walking through an alley he had walked through at least a hundred times before, calling Robin on the phone “I’ll be at the station in five minutes, take the metro and there in half an hour or so.” He was saying.

            “It’s okay, I understand the passion for the job” Robin laughed in the other night “I’ll wait for you in bed. Love you.”

            “Love you too, babe.” Strike hung up with a smile.

            Robin woke up as her mobile rang. She had rolled over to Strike’s side of the bed and didn’t think it had passed more than ten minutes since she had last called him so, without opening her eyes, she put the mobile in her ear.

            “Yeah babe?” suddenly her eyes shot open and jumped off the bed “Where? Okay, I’m on my way.”

            Robin hung up and dressed as fast as it was physically possible, her heart beating fast and a knot installed in her throat. When she was ready she pulled the babies’ bag and filled it with the babies’ stuff and a bunch of milk bottles she had pumped from her breasts during the day and were in the fridge. She filled another bag with a change of clothes for her, a couple pyjamas for Strike, and some toiletries.

            “I’m sorry” Robin whispered carefully getting the babies one by one out of their cribs and into their car seats “stay asleep, just stay asleep.” She got everything settled down in the car, locked the house, and drove to Bromley. She tried calling Lucy multiple times in the car without success, and when she arrived to Lucy’s house she parked in double line in front of the door, got the babies’ huge bag on one shoulder and one car seat in each hand, and rang the bell of the house non-stop until Greg opened.

            “What’s wrong?” Greg worried instantly, his sleepiness washing off as he saw Robin’s pale face and watery eyes.

            “Wake Lucy up, we have to go to the hospital, Corm was attacked on his way home alone.” She said quickly. Greg’s face went paler and he ran upstairs. Robin got into the house and stood there walking nervously up and down the corridor, breathing deeply to try keep her shit together, while the babies slept away in their car seats on the floor.

            A couple minutes later Lucy, fully dressed, ran downstairs, as pale as Robin, followed by Greg, who was in his pyjamas since he knew he had to stay take care of his own children and his nephew and niece.

            “Let’s go I have the car in double line and they called a long time ago.” Robin rushed nervously.

            “Go, I’ve got them.” Greg took the car seats and the bag and went upstairs and Robin and Lucy got into Robin’s car.

            “Where is he?” Lucy asked.

            “St Mary’s hospital in Paddington” Robin answered, her voice shaking and her eyes fixed on the road.

            “Did they say what happened?” Lucy asked a few seconds later as they stopped at a red light, Robin trying not to add passing red lights to the list of driving laws she was sure was breaking, like speeding too much.

            “They said he was found at an alley we always use as a shortcut from the office to the nearest metro station. He was in a pool of his own blood. They said” Robin’s voice got more uneven and a tear fell down her cheek “they said he... that he... he got beaten up and shot, that... that... he could die any second now!”

            “What?” Lucy panicked, getting as white as a paper “what?” Robin sniffled and nodded.

            “They told me to go say goodbye. That it’s unlikely he makes it to the morning, they couldn’t... couldn’t even finish s-surgery b-because he was t-too weak...” Robin said between sobs trying to keep her shit together enough to drive them safely “I knew I had to get you.” Lucy sat crying silently the rest of the drive, looking at her lap. Robin breathed deep until she stopped crying.

            They ran into the hospital and a doctor led them down a barely illuminated marble corridor that ended at a big ICU room filled with beds and movement. Then, he led them to a cubicle separated by a glass door, and left them alone. It was a very dark cubicle, small, only illuminated by the machines. There was a beep for every beat of Strike’s heart. Robin almost crumbled right there. She looked at her fiancé and saw him lying motionless in a bed, covered in tons of sheets up to his neck. They could only see his head, a tube down his mouth. He was barely recognisable. His face was covered in bruises and scratches, his head was wrapped up by  a tight white bandage, and the left side of his face was all swollen and purple, his left eye covered by a patch up to his eyebrow. There was barely space for the bed and two small blue chairs, one at each side of the bed, by the head of the bed. Lucy was already crying on her brother, sitting on one of the chairs, and Robin walked to the other. She felt like a zombie. She wondered if that’s how Strike felt when she was in the hospital because then she understood his crying. She couldn’t even cry. She felt as if someone had ripped her heart out and given it to her for lunch. She was afraid to touch Strike, so she only dared to carefully and slightly brush his right cheek with his cheek and kiss him softly on the forehead.

            “I’m here. Whatever happens, I’m here and I love you and it’s okay. Everything will be okay.” Robin whispered, trying to reassure him so he left calm “But promise me you won’t let go just like it, uh? You have to try your hardest, for us and for our children, okay?” she added, finally sobbing and sitting on her chair. She laid her head on the pillow next to his head, and cried.

            Hours later Lucy had fallen asleep on her brother and Robin just stared at Strike’s face, her mind blank. She couldn’t fall asleep, she was just listening to Strike’s breathing through the machines and the beep, counting the seconds between each breathe and the next, making sure it was always the same amount of time, that he was still breathing. She looked at her phone and saw it was 4AM of June 16th 2013\. There was a knock in the door and a doctor came in. He was tall, looked to be in his late fifties, had deep blue eyes, white-black hair and beard, and a kind expression.

            “Ms Strike?” he asked her. She stood up and shook his hand.

            “I’m Robin Ellacott, Cormoran’s fiancée.” She explained, her eyes swollen and her hair dishevelled “And she’s Lucy Strike, Cormoran’s little step-sister. She’s the closest family he’s got aside from me and our children.”

            “My pleasure. I’m Doctor Alan Shepherd, general surgeon. I’m the leading surgeon of your fiancé.” He introduced himself “I’m sorry this is happening. I came to explain you the situation, if that’s alright.” Robin nodded and sat back on her chair. He opened the door, took a stool from somewhere and sat in front of Robin.

            “Please, don’t be soft, be realistic. Just tell me things as they are, no lies, no softening things up... I can take it. I want to know exactly what’s up. My mother’s a nurse, I know how it works.” The doctor nodded and opened a folder on his lap. He consulted the pages several times while talking to her.

            “Mr Strike was badly beaten up on the street by several unknown people, according to police. Then, he was shot on the chest, when he was already half unconscious on the ground. He was found by a pedestrian, who called 999 and he was brought straight to surgery.” The doctor explained “I’ll start by the least bad. Although pretty much every centimetre of his body is either bruised or scratched, his good leg is pretty good. No fractures, no deep cuts, pretty good.” Robin nodded “We could say the same of his amputated leg, the only snag is a small fracture in his knee, produced by his prosthesis. We’ve stabilised it for now, but it’ll need further surgery when he’s in a better general condition, he just couldn’t stand more time in surgery than what he had, and that wasn’t much already.”

            “Will he be able to use his prosthesis again?” Robin asked.

            “Yeah, it’s more than likely. There wasn’t ligament damage, just a small fracture in a bone, easy to repair. For now it’s in a cast and when we can, the surgery we’ll do should leave it almost as new.” Doctor Shepherd said “After multiple tests, we didn’t expect him to still be alive at this hour, so he’s already overachieving. With some more luck, we’ll get to finish his surgeries later today or tomorrow and then just leave him sleep it off until he’s better.” Robin sighed in relief, feeling herself near tears again.

            “So he’s not dying tonight?”

            “If I only looked at his folder, I’d say he should be dead already, but seeing the machines...” Doctor Shepherd looked to the machines “he’s perfectly stable, he’s been for many hours. So I’d be a bit more optimistic.”

            “What are his other injuries then?” Robin asked.

            “Well, his right arm is bruised and scratched, but nothing broken. There’s a significant cut on the dorsal of his right arm from self defence, but nothing else, that’s already stitched up, disinfected, and bandaged.”

            “Good” Robin nodded.

            “Then his right arm is bruised, scratched and has a fracture in his left clavicle. Is small, but will need some further surgery than the stabilisation we’ve done for now, and his arm will need to stay in a special sling that keeps it tied to his torso so the clavicle doesn’t do much work, for one or two months.” Doctor Shepherd continued. Robin nodded “Aside from that, his head suffered a mid-concussion and had internal bleeding. We won’t know the extent of the damage until he’s awake, but it’s likely that there will be motor coordination issues, difficulties to concentrate, memory issues, tiredness, difficulty to remember certain words maybe, finish sentences, confusion...” The doctor shrugged “there’s a big variety of possibilities. The good news is that the skull didn’t fracture, preventing worse injuries, and once the brain swelling lessens, he’ll be able to recover. He probably will never be 100% the same, but with the proper treatment and physiotherapy, he might be 95% the same. His nose is broken and repaired now, same with his left eyebrow bone and left cheek bone, but the swelling there was so big he wouldn’t even be capable of opening the eye, so we put the patch to make sure it could rest and heal properly, with some pomade.” Robin nodded, looking at Strike for a moment.

            “It’s okay. At least he’ll be alive.” Robin said softly.

            “The worst damage went to his torso” the doctor continued “his back muscles may ache significantly when he wakes up from the surgeries and also due to the beating. He has up to eight rib fractures, none of them particularly important, but the amount has weaken his rib cage significantly, making the lung movement harder, so we’ve had to put an oxygen tube to ensure he’ll breathe just fine. Will probably be gone in a couple days though, we’ll substitute it by a nose cannula, it’s probably the option that will be less uncomfortable and painful with his face wounds.” Robin nodded understandingly “He got shot once, in the sternum bone, that broke but kept the bullet there, so it didn’t penetrate his organs, which was an incredible hit of luck.” Robin breathed out in relief “We extracted the bullet and settled the bone so it can repair on its own, but it’s another reason why he’s being closely monitored and receiving cardiac help. Lastly” he continued “he had significant trauma in his liver, stomach and other internal organs in his abdomen from being forcefully punched. There was some internal bleeding, for which he needed surgery, but it’s important to keep an eye on it. When he arrived, he was crashing, he had lost litres and litres of blood, now he’s stable. Keep the faith.” Robin sniffled and nodded.

            “It sounds like a really painful recovery...” she whispered.

            “It will be” doctor Shepherd conceded “but he won’t be alone, and neither will you. He’ll stay here between two and three weeks if he keeps recovering, maybe more if he’s in a lot of pain and being at home would be too uncomfortable for him and you, adding his disability and brain problems, while here he can stay closely monitored and nurses can clean him, feed him and help him and you. We may wait to release him until all his chest is fully healed up and he can be in a wheelchair. He won’t be using his prosthesis for a while to ensure a full recovery of his leg. He’s heavily medicated so won’t be weird if he acts groggy and rather high, hardly ever awake or responsive for quite a few days. All normal.”


	35. Daddy

At lunch time, Strike had been translated to his own room and Robin and Lucy sat there eating some takeout Greg had brought after driving the kids to school. Robin got to see the babies a little and then Greg went back home with them after having called work and explained the situation, getting a couple days off. In the meantime, Robin had called the family in St Mawes, her parents and Ilsa and Nick. The Herberts freaked out and took the day off work, saying they’d be there as soon as the nanny arrived. Robin’s parents and Strike’s Uncle and Aunt were on their way, but it’d probably be night time by the time they made it. When they got there they’d be able to stay at Robin’s and take care of the babies, taking turns. Robin had already told everyone everything the doctor had told her, and Anstis, who was in charge of Strike’s case, had come asking questions but Robin couldn’t tell him more than about all the death threats gotten over the years, so he left soon.

“When I catch the son of a bitch who did this...” Lucy grumbled. In those times she reminded Robin of Strike. His brother had already finished all his surgeries before lunch time, after the doctors decided he was strong enough at seven in the morning.

“Me too.” Robin left the empty box of her noodles on the nightstand and reached a hand to Strike’s forehead “he’s not so cold anymore. My poor boy...” She kissed him on the forehead.

“Shot twice in two years. You’ve got to change profession guys.” Lucy shook her head.

“No, we’ve got to work faster and make sure every asshole this big is between bars.” Robin corrected her.

The next day Robin had convinced Lucy to go back to work. She was pacing around Strike’s room making a mental list of their worst threats for Anstis while Strike’s Uncle and Aunt sat on the sofa chatting low-key with Robin’s parents and Ilsa sat on an armchair near Strike’s bed. She had cried so hard when she heard, and now she couldn’t stop looking at him. Nick had just gone to work but since Ilsa was autonomous she could choose to stay there. Anstis sat in another armchair, reading the box Ginny had given him of death threats.

“I don’t get how you seriously didn’t go to the police with this...” Anstis murmured.

“Strike went the first few times Anstis, and you guys pretty much told him he had it coming.” Robin glared at him, and Anstis sighed “So we just kept them in case... I don’t know.”

“Do you really think there’s someone in there who could’ve done this?” Aunt Joan asked Robin.

“I don’t know” Robin sighed in frustration looking at Strike “we pissed off a lot of people. There’s Whittaker’s girlfriend, there’s John Bristow if he contacted someone out of prison, there’s any friend of Hedley or Tassel’s or Laing’s, or a ton of people whose partners left them when we found they were cheating...” Robin shrugged “we resolve around six cases  _weekly_ . That’s a bunch of angry people.” Strike groaned in his sleep and Robin rushed to attend him, carefully stroking his cheek with the back of her hand “It’s okay honey, you’re okay...” she whispered comfortingly. He made another groan, softer, and then seemed to calm down “Anstis” she looked at the policeman “when you find who did it, let me have them for myself for five minutes, okay?”

A couple nights later the whole family and friends clan sat in the room. Robin had just arrived from going to spend a few hours with her children, shower, have dinner with them and their nanny, go to the office for a bit to see what she could find out, and go back to the hospital with her laptop and a box of papers to keep trying to find who of the people who hated Strike had the more chances at trying to kill him.

“The doctor came” Lucy commented Robin as she redhead sat with her laptop, frenetically researching. Robin looked at her giving her all the attention “nothing bad, he says Corm’s getting much better.”

“Good” Robin smiled tiredly and turned to look at Strike, squeezing softly his right hand, that lied over the mattress next to him, on the mattress. He was mostly nude under the blankets and there were cables and thin tubes disappearing into the sheets, an IV in his right arm “keep astonishing the docs babe.” She whispered. Suddenly Cormoran’s right eye opened slightly and he groaned, blinking. He didn’t have a tub in his mouth anymore, just a nose cannula, and could speak better if he felt up to it. Robin hurried to set the laptop aside and get up to lean over him “Corm, it’s okay...” she saw his pupil move to him and he made another guttural noise “what honey?”

“He’s awake?” Ilsa asked getting up to get a better view.

“He is.” Lucy nodded “Hi Stick” she smiled at him and he coughed and then made another intelligible sound.

“I’ll get the doctor” Michael offered leaving the room as the others stood around the bed.

“Why isn’t he understandable?” Nick asked.

“No idea” Robin caressed Strike’s cheek softly “babe are you feeling okay? You can... you can blink if it hurts?” he blinked several times, slowly “okay, well my father went to get the doctor alright? He’ll come and make the pain go away.”

“R’bin...” Strike whispered “Ro...b’n...” he tried again.

“I’m here” Robin smiled at him “I’m here, it’s alright.”

“All good?” the doctor came and everyone around the bed moved away to let him do his job “how are we doing, Cormoran?” he approached his bed, looking at the machines, and checking Cormoran’s free eye with a small lantern.

“Hurts...” Strike grumbled. Robin smiled tearfully. She had missed his voice like crazy.

“Unfortunately, you’ll have to get used to that for a bit. There’s only so much medication you can get.” He checked the IV bag, and changed it for another one he had brought “Here’s some more, but no more for today uh?”

“Robin” Strike called “Robin...”

“It’s okay Corm, I’m still here.” Robin squeezed his foot gently through the sheets.

“Careful” Strike told her. Robin frowned slightly but nodded.

“Don’t worry babe. Do you remember what happened?”

“Phone... home...” Strike mumbled.

“What a moment to think of ET” Nick joked.

“Ass” Strike coughed “didn’t see ‘hem c’ming... then all black..” Robin nodded.

“Them?” Robin asked “how many?”

“Five... six?” Strike sighed closing his eyes for a moment, relieved to feel some of the pain go away with the medication “whah happ’nd?”

“You were beaten up Cormoran” Doctor Shepherd explained “and shot. Don’t worry, you’ve got the strongest sternum I’ve known and you’re probably the luckiest man in London. But there’re still some serious injuries, including a head wound, so that’s painful and you need to rest and stay in bed for a few weeks.” Strike sighed and nodded softly.

“W’ah ‘bout mah leg?” Strike asked then.

“Way better than you were probably imagining” Doctor Shepherd calmed him “you had a small knee fracture, we repaired it fully well with a minimally invasive surgery, so it should be like new in a couple weeks. But I don’t want you using your prosthesis until you’re way more in shape, could be a couple months in a wheelchair.” Strike glared at the doctor, but nodded “Want some water?” Strike nodded and the doctor served him a glass of water and helped him drink “Alright, I’m going to check on other patients, but if you need anything, tell them to give me a ring.” He smiled and left. Strike opened his right hand looking at Robin, who took it.

“Kids?” Strike grumbled.

“They’re well” Robin assured “crawling all around the house. It’s only been a few days and now they’ve got all their family visiting so they’re super entertained, playing the day away.” Strike half smiled a little “Don’t worry, I closed the office until we get to the end of this, and Anstis is in charge, he’s put police at our doorstep.”

“Good” Strike nodded “I didn’t see ‘hem, Rowin.”

“That’s alright. Maybe you need glasses?” Robin joked. Strike laughed as softly as he could, trying not to die in pain.

“You two and your dark humour.” Ted rolled his eyes with a little smile and Robin leant to kiss Strike.

Over the next couple weeks, Strike slowly recovered his health a little and was able to sit up in bed without cringing that much. They retired the bandage on her face and head and his messy hair covered the scar from the head surgery. His eye and cheek looked a bit purple, but he could see just fine. That day, Robin helped him into a hospital gown and to be sitting in bed against a bunch of pillows, and she got hospital authorisation for the children to visit their father, so Strike was smiling at the 11 month old babies that sat on his thighs.

“That’s your horse?” Strike asked Sophie, who held a tiny stuffed horse near his face “that’s one cool horse Sophie.” Sophie chuckled, her dimples showing. Daniel was obsessed on the hospital blanket, that was really soft, stroking it with his tiny hand “Do you like that blanket Danny?” he chuckled at his son. He had some behaviours sometimes that reminded Strike of autistic children, focusing in one thing and ignoring the rest of the world “we’ll get you a similar one.” Sophie babbled something “What’s that sweetie? Where you telling me a story?”

“Daddy!” Sophie yelled sharply. She was a big yeller, but she had never said an actual word. Strike’s eyes widened “Daddy!” she leant forward doing a gesture like to be picked up. Strike, shocked, put an arm around her tiny body and let her crawl to sort of hugging, ignoring the pain of it.

“Oh” Strike looked around. Robin smiled at him.

“I’m writing that down in her book.” She commented, Strike grinning regardless of the pain “I always knew you were her favourite.” Robin joked “And mine.”

“That’s right Sophie, daddy” Strike rubbed her little hair affectionately “you’re my warrior princess.” Sophie made unintelligible noises shaking her little stuffed horse.

There was a knock on the door and Anstis came in.

“Hi” Anstis smiled at them “I’m sorry to bother you mate, but I was hoping you were feeling better for a proper interrogatory.” Strike nodded and motioned for a chair.

“Have you got any leads yet?” Ted, Leda’s older brother, asked from the sofa.

“We’re interrogating people still. There was no witness. No footage from security cameras for now.” Anstis sat down “So Corm, I need you to tell me everything you remember of the last day you remember before being in the hospital, anything. And then if anything suspicious or important happened this month that you can recall.”

“Well, it’s quite foggy.” Strike sighed “I remember getting up early the day of the attack. We packed the kids. Went to work.”

“We left the kids home with the nanny, Corm. We walked to work” Robin intervened sitting on the verge of the bed, holding Daniel because Strike only had one arm free “we took the metro because there was a lot of traffic for the car, remember?”

“True” Strike nodded.

“Ginny, your assistant, chimed me in the cases and schedule of that day of work” Anstis said “so just tell me anything you may consider relevant.”

Strike thought for a few minutes and sighed in frustration, shaking his head.

“I’m sorry mate” Strike said “it’s hard. I can’t remember even conversations. I don’t know what I had for lunch or dinner, if I had it, I don’t remember my clients. All I remember is I was finishing up a case, just wrapping things up. I remember Robin leaving when it was late, talking something about being there for the kids?” Robin nodded “I remember the frenzy the adrenaline pumping gives when you’re about to finish a case. I couldn’t go until I had finished. I couldn’t bring myself to stop. Which is normal for me, with most of our cases.” Strike explained. Anstis nodded in understanding.

“Do you remember if you finished it?”

“No, but I know I did because I wouldn’t have left otherwise. Besides, Robin told me I left it on Ginny’s desk for the results to be sent to the client in the morning.” Strike said.

“What else?” Anstis askes, writing everything on a small notebook.

“Nothing” Strike said “I don’t remember getting out of the office. I don’t remember the call Robin says I made to her. I don’t remember deciding to go through that alley, nor walking there, nor being attacked. All I know is I was sitting on my desk and next thing, I was waking up here, days after the attack. Doctor said aside from the psychological trauma, my brain was bleeding a lot, so memory got affected.”

“Yeah” Anstis nodded “and do you recall anything suspicious this past few days? Whoever attacked you or hired someone to attack you wasn’t an amateur. They knew where you’d be, when. They had probably observing your movements all day, or several days. They had it all planned perfectly well.” Strike thought in silence for a bit.

“Denmark Street is always the same, I don’t remember having thought there was something weird these days, although well, you know, now we have a lot of hustle and rushing, between the children and our growing amount of clients. Might’ve been bit distracted.” Strike answered tiredly “But it’s a peculiar street. A place that’s always playing rock music, there’s a lot of people coming and going, some regulars. A store of musical instruments. A pub...” Strike shrugged “Wait... contact the Cosmopolitan magazine. They wrote an article when the twins were born, quoting sources from Denmark Street. Guess they offered money. But they proved there’s people who watches us, knows our movements, probably know if they saw someone peculiar. You can ask Cosmopolitan to reveal their sources.”

“Good idea” Anstis nodded writing it down “and can you tell me names of those you think could’ve done this? Those you’d suspect of, as an detective?” Strike thought for a while.

“Everyone I’ve put in prison, they may have friends. Also a few anonymous who sent letters... some seemed really serious, I went to the police with them” Strike said “but they told me I deserved it, that it was normal with my job. Eric Wardle’s been particularly pissed at me.”

“Wardle?” Anstis frowned.

“Yeah” Strike nodded, stroking Sophie’s chin as she supported her face on his belly “he’s been really angry, ‘cause I make him look like a fool. Also Robin, but I’ve been doing it for longer time I guess.” Strike shrugged “While he saw Landry’s case as suicide, I caught a triple killer. He was left in ridicule, I heard his boss was angry. Then all the other cases, lastly Colin’s. His wife left him. Wardle tends to mess a lot with me, since day one, because he feels threatened. He behaves as if by attacking me vulgarly with comments he could make himself superior. He gets all frustrated it doesn’t work with me.” Strike shrugged “A couple months ago I heard he was walking on a tightrope at work after Colin’s. May be worth to interrogate?”

“Mate, no offense, but Wardle is one of the best cops there is. Yeah okay you’ve proved to be smarter, but he’s one of the good ones still. He’d never...”

“Richard” Strike got serious “I don’t want to think about that either, alright? But listen. I’ve seen a brother kill several siblings who had done nothing to him. I’ve seen a woman feed pieces of an old client to her dog. I’ve seen a man murder the woman he claimed to love. Then we have like a hundred cheating cases daily. People do terrible things to their loved ones when they’re desperate. They go mad, lose their royal minds... and I’m not even Wardle’s loved one. He doesn’t have a girl or children to lose, he only has his job and I was the reason he was failing at that, with chances of getting fired. If you don’t investigate him, my fiancée will and I assure you she looks like a sweet cookie here right now but she’s a shark when she’s pissed. And she’s almost in her period.” Anstis nodded slowly. Strike yawned.

“Okay, you need to sleep” Robin stood up “and these need to eat.” She held Daniel and then Sophie, one in each arm “Say bye to Uncle Richard kids.” She encouraged kissing their chubby cheeks.

“Bye, have a good day” Anstis chuckled at them and left. Strike yawned again and closed his eyes, soon falling asleep.

 


	36. All about that pee

**Chapter 36:**

“I wanna go home” Strike complained. He had been in the hospital bed for two weeks and a half, and he felt himself start to go mad. He was accustomed to walking up and down London every day, playing with his children, having sex. Now he could hardly get up to use the bathroom, and even less walk “I miss my children. Sophie said her first word, and it was daddy, she needs me.”

“They miss you too, but they’d rather daddy come home when he’s ready than too soon. It’s important you stay here a bit longer.” Lucy said helping him into a pyjama shirt. 

“But I want to go! I feel just alright! I’ll sign the damn voluntary...”

“You can’t” Robin sighed sitting on the verge of his bed “baby, you left me as your next of kin and since you suffered quite the brain damage, doctors qualify I’m the only one authorised to make medical decisions here. I’m sorry, but you’re excluded from your own equation. And if they say being here is the best for you, then that’s what it’s gonna be. Come on, sitting straight makes your breathing difficult and everything hurt, you’re not ready for the wheelchair yet, wouldn’t you rather come home being awesome to enjoy it?”

“It’s very easy to say when you’re going home once daily, having fresh air and holding our children!” Strike hissed “I don’t get any of that and I highly doubt any of you would be pleased in my shoes!”

“Hey” Lucy looked at him in all seriousness, using the stern tone she used with her children after their tantrums “look at me, Cormoran Blue.” Strike reticently looked at her “You’re almost thirty-nine, not a child, so stop behaving as such. You can’t go home and trust me, you wouldn’t be happy all day in a wheelchair at home, hissing in pain every time you tried to hold your children. This is what’s best for you and if you don’t like it you screw it up and deal with it, because you’re a grown man and you don’t get to make tantrums fifty times a day.” Strike glared at her, but nodded “Now apologize to your fiancée.”

“I’m sorry Robin.” Strike grumbled sincerely. Robin sighed and kissed his forehead.

“I’m sorry this sucks baby” Robin told him “just have a bit more patience okay? Just a few more days. Then you’ll come home and you’ll be ready to hug them real tight and snuggle with me.”

“I look forward.” Strike said looking defeated.

But as the days passed, Strike grew more frustrated, more moody, more pissed off, to the point that it started to piss off everyone around him too. Although his legs worked fine, he wasn’t strong enough yet for the prosthesis, he was still concussed and got dizzy every time he even changed positions in bed too fast, and when he tried to sit straight or stand up, without leaning on anything, everything inside his torso hurt and breathing got difficult. His ribcage just wasn’t strong enough and ready to balance his body yet and make breathing easy, and his abdominal organs had been punched quite furiously and seemed to still be unwilling to be anything but resting. So leaning back in bed against pillows or lying down was the only available options, and it was the less of two evils, because what his legs needed was actually to walk, not to rest so much, but that was just not a possibility. One night, Strike finished getting in Robin’s nerves.

“...if you want to pee, then use the thingy the nurse gave you.” Robin insisted exasperated. Lucy rolled her eyes and groaned at his brother’s stubbornness. They thought they had made things clear a number of times, the doctor had repeated it a thousand times, but Strike was just... Strike. And now that his beard had grown considerably thicker -and Robin’s attempts to shave him had gone terrible- he was looking more like an ogre to be feared.

“I’m not using that damn thing, it’s disgusting!” Strike complained impatiently.

“Come on I’ve seen you pee literally anywhere!”

“This is dif-“

“Yeah? How so?”

“I just want to go to the bathroom, dammit!” Strike made an attempt to sit up and Robin gently pushed him back.

“Corm love” Robin said gently but with a stern look. She was exhausted, all day going from work, spending some time with the kids, and when she finally could see the love of her life, it was all a constant battle “we’ve talked about this  _many_ times, it’s getting tiring. You and I both know you’ll end up hurting yourself if you go to the bathroom, even if the distance’s so short and even with our help, we both know if you get hurt then you’ll have to stay here a bit longer, and we both are dying for you to go home. Fastest route home? Doing exactly what the doctors say. And if they tell you to pee in that thing, you pee in that thing or pee yourself, your choice.” Strike looked defiantly at her. Lucy was reminded of the times Strike had just lost his leg and he was a pain in the ass to deal with. She knew he hated feeling disabled, useless, and incapable of being independent.

“Don’t think I won’t do it.” Strike threatened.

“Be my guest.” Robin said calmly. They looked at each other for a few seconds, and then Strike sat up with a groan.

“Fuck you, you know?” Strike snapped “I can do what I want, I don’t accept orders” he added stubbornly getting up on one leg trying to pretend like he hadn’t just really hurt himself and trying to make his enormous groan sound like it was the pleasure from stirring and not pain. Standing up he was a head taller than Robin and looked at her defiantly “see? All good!” Robin huffed rolling her eyes.

“You’re hurting y...”

“If I say I want to go to the bathroom, Robin” Strike said supporting on the bed as to not fall, standing in only one leg “then I will go to the damn bathroom!”

“I’m seeing your ass, brother.” Lucy commented casually, as Strike was only wearing a gown that left his ass visible a little bit from behind.

“Enjoy the view!” Strike snapped without looking at her. Lucy rolled her eyes. Strike went to hop in the direction of the en suite bathroom, when the pain almost made him fall and Robin rushed to help him.

“You’re hurting yourself!” Robin was pissed.

“Maybe I wouldn’t if you helped your damn fiancé instead of fighting him all the time, like you don’t know how to do anything else!” he yelled at her. Robin’s eyes watered and she clenched her teeth.

“Fine, you want to go to the bathroom? Then let’s go, and when you wind up in another surgery, you explain the kids.” Robin said angrily. He hoped again, Robin was the only reason he didn’t fall face first, while his face expressed the most absolute pain, and then... he peed himself. He went pale as he realized what happened, looking down and seeing his gown and the floor yellow. Robin breathed deeply to calm herself before she killed him “Lucy dear, could you please find the nurse? He’s going to need another gown.”

Since Lucy was the only other person in the room that night, when she left Robin supported Strike with a strong arm and with her free hand she undid the knots of the gown, removed it, and threw it to the floor as far as her strength allowed. Strike had urine in his legs too, and looked down in embarrassment.

“Just give me some toilet paper and I...” Strike whispered.

“You nothing” Robin snapped interrupting him angrily. She couldn’t take it any longer, she hadn’t had a proper night of rest in a month, she hardly got to sit down and do nothing for half an hour, she was all day changing children’s diapers, or feeding them, or playing with them, or consoling them, and then all day up and down London trying to find who hurt Strike, just to get to the hospital at night without a break and have to fight a big baby who supposedly was Oxford quality of brain. She was dreading the twins’ birthday if at this rhythm Strike wasn’t out of the hospital by then, and she was furious “you’re going to sit there, try not to get anything dirtier, let me clean you up, let the nurse do their job, and fucking do as the doctor say and behave, so you don’t have to miss the first birthday of your children!” her volume rose accidentally as she spoke and Strike nodded, letting her help him sit on the verge of the bed.

He let her grab toilet paper and clean him, and he let the nurse put a new gown on him, change the bed sheets, and the cleaning service washed the floor off. Once they all had left and he was established comfortably in bed, Robin and Lucy sat on the sofa and tried to calm themselves just enough. Lucy had already had to deal with her brother’s temper and stubbornness before Robin arrived while Robin was trying to spend some time with the children, that had started, both, to say ‘daddy’ and lately, ‘mommy’, which instead of being received as an endearing gesture, Robin saw it as a sign they missed her too. Strike just lied down in bed, too ashamed to speak, looking like he had just lost his life’s war, and was just keeping his eyes close and wishing the Earth gulped him, while trying not to feel such a knot in his throat.

“Lucy, why don’t you go home? Your children must be missing you and Greg’s all lonely.” Robin smiled at her soon to be sister in law.

“Are you sure? I can stay if you need me.” Lucy offered “I don’t mind.”

“No, it’s alright. I’m sure he’s learnt the lesson.” She sighed “We’ll manage.”

“Okay” Lucy kissed her cheek “stay strong.” She smiled, getting up and going to her brother, squeezing his free hand -his other arm was in a sling, wrapped to his torso because of his clavicle- affectionately “Be good, okay? I love you.” Strike nodded and she left.

When Lucy left, Robin got up, changed into her pyjamas, got the sofa ready for her. She sighed when all was ready, looking at Strike, who hadn’t moved. She had to fix her eyes on his chest to make sure he was still breathing.

“Corm” Robin said in a gentle tone, sitting on the verge of the bed and caressing his face “I don’t want to go to sleep while you’re upset. I never want us to go to sleep without being in good terms.” Strike opened his eyes, watery, and nodded a bit.

“I’m well, go to sleep. You need it.” He whispered with a hoarse voice. Robin looked at him sadly and leant for a hug, trying not to put too much pressure on him and be delicate.

“I wish you could come home with me” Robin sighed, her voice quivering and a tear silently travelling down her cheek “I miss you, and the kids miss you, and I’m exhausted. I can’t do their birthday without you. I can’t do this without you at all. We need you home, with us.” Strike nodded, putting his only free arm around her and burying his face in her neck so she wouldn’t see him cry even if she noticed it in his voice.

“I want that too, so, so badly. I’m sick of this, and in so much pain Robin, I just want to be home with all of you. At least, feel the wind in my skin or something.”

“Then behave, collaborate, and we’ll be home soon. Don’t make this shit harder than it already is.” Robin pleaded him, sniffling.

“I’m sorry I’ve been such an asshole to you. I’m so sorry, I don’t deserve you, I don’t know how you can marry me I’m such a...” he sobbed.

“Sh... don’t be silly. You’re the best person I know.” Robin kissed him on the cheek, snuggling into his arms as delicately as possible, feeling herself falling asleep.

 


	37. Daddy's home

“Daddy’s home!” Robin yelled happily as she pushed Strike’s wheeling chair into their house on August 6th, three days before the twins’ birthday. Strike grinned from ear to ear seeing their family and friends waiting for then in the sitting room “Yay!”

As cheerful as everyone was, Strike was only interested in his children. Robin helped him onto the sofa and held both of the children, sitting them on Strike’s thigh of the right leg, non amputated and where Strike could hold them with his good arm.

“Say hi to daddy!” Robin encouraged her children happily. Strike sobbed. He swore he wouldn’t get emotional, but he had honestly felt in hell without them. Little Sophie chuckled at him with her big cheeks and dimples, her green eyes fixed on him. Little Daniel squealed, his hair having gotten longer since Robin didn’t have time to get it cut and it grew so fast.

“Hi” Strike breathed out, leaning to hug them both with one arm, covering them in kisses “I’ve missed you so much, so much.”

“Daddy!” Daniel squealed happily. Robin couldn’t help but reach and wrap her family in her arms. She had damn missed them.

Since the twins’ birthday was so close anyway, their family decided to stay just a bit longer for it. Strike couldn’t yet go back to work -thinking deeply for more than ten minutes exhausted him- but he was content hanging with the kids while Robin worked all morning. There were still no clues as for who had hurt Strike. The morning before the double birthday, she had gone to the office and on the way back home she decided to take the alley where Strike was attacked. She had avoided it for weeks, but now she felt she needed to go check it out.

Like police said, it had no cameras. Robin tried to ignore the slight red tone part of the ground still had from Strike’s blood as she walked around, searching for clues. She locked eyes with someone who was just standing there, a homeless she had seen several times over the years, and he jumped and ran away. Robin didn’t think twice before running after him. She finally reached him by the elbow when he was about to jump over some fence, and he turned around and slapped her in the face.

“The fuck?” Robin yelled, and punched him on the stomach. He doubled over in pain “Why did you hit me? I just wanted to ask why you were running from me, wasn’t going to hurt you!” Robin sighed, recovering her breath.

“You think I hurt him!” he said stepping back.

“Why would I?” Robin shrugged “I have no proof. I was just walking there, is looking at you an accusation now?” the man looked down, scared “But you know something do you? Otherwise you wouldn’t react like this.”

“I know nothing” he said, refusing to meet her eyes.

“Liar” Robin stared at him “what do you know?” he shook his head “don’t make me punch you again. I’ll call the police, say you tried to steal my purse. Can you pay a lawyer?” she threatened, kindness aside. He looked defeated.

“Alright! I...” he looked nervous “I saw something there, the night he was attacked. I saw it. There were five men, all wearing black, hitting Strike. One of them, younger, short dark hair... he shot him.” Robin’s jaw dropped slightly in surprise.

“Why didn’t you tell someone?”

“Because he would’ve shot me too!”

“What? He wouldn’t have known.”

“Yeah, that wouldn’t have been possible. He’s part of them.” A police siren rang in the distance and he went pale “I have to go!” and he ran away, leaving a very bewildered Robin behind.

“Hi!” Strike smiled at her when she arrived home. He was standing supporting on one crutch, while Linda and Michael cooked some typical Yorkshire dish “how did it go?”

“Well” Robin kissed him “something weird happened.”

“Yeah?” Linda looked curious at her, Sophie bouncing against her hip.

“I think a policeman is after the attack” Robin said with a light frown. Strike looked curious at her.

“Wardle?” Strike asked, and Robin nodded.

“I chatted with that homeless that’s always around the office? He said he saw five men attack you, and one of them shot you. He described him and it fit in Wardle and when I asked why didn’t he tell someone, he got all scared and nervous and said then they’d know he knew, that it was impossible they wouldn’t know. A police siren was sounding then.”

“So no actual proof valid in a trial” Strike commented.

“Yeah” Robin sighed “Wardle wouldn’t...”

“Sh...” Strike kissed her again “let’s invite him to the birthday barbecue. Say it’s a peace offering, try ambush him?” Robin chuckled.

“My smart boy.” Robin commented satisfied.

When the twins’ birthday came, they made a barbecue in the garden. The party was going well and Wardle had come, so while Strike played with the babies sitting on the grass, Robin whispered something to Nick and they approached Wardle.

“Hi!” Nick smiled “so you’re a cop, right?” Wardle nodded slowly. He wasn’t quite sure why he had come, he already was thinking on a good excuse to leave “so cool. What kind of gun you have?”

“A 45, automatic” Wardle answered. Robin pretended not to feel cheerful with the info by drinking from her wine. She had been holding her phone the whole time, recording the conversation “why, do you know much about guns?”

“Oh, no, no” Nick smiled friendly “I just love police shows, felt curious. I think cops are such rock stars.” Wardle liked having his ass licked “I’ve heard so many complements about you from Richard.” Wardle smiled.

“Yeah well, I’m a good cop.”

“He works many night shifts, right?” Robin commented nonchalantly “hard job...”

“Yeah” Eric Wardle nodded “that’s right.”

“God” Nick sighed “bet they always send you for the hard things. You must know all the gangsters in London!” he pretended to sound impressed and Wardle laughed. 

“I do know quite ugly people. But it’s fine, part of the job right?” Wardle shrugged.

“Totally” Nick nodded “I heard you had some problems with the bosses, they won’t fire you right?”

“Well, now that Strike and I aren’t doing much he can get the upper-hand, uh Eric?” Robin laughed softly, pretending to joke. Wardle nodded a little.

“Bah, they won’t fire me. They know deep inside I’m better than him...” Wardle sighed, drinking from his beer. He wasn’t on duty now “Well, I should be going. Thanks for the invite, the beer’s good.”

“Thank you for coming.” Robin smiled at him, and Nick walked him to the door “I got you, bastard.” She murmured between grilled teeth.

That night, Robin decided to head back to the office after the babies were put to sleep.

“You should stay and we could practice for the honeymoon.” Strike kissed her with a chuckle, grabbing her ass with one hand as they exited the nursery.

“I can’t wait another day to arrest him and my parents are drinking wine downstairs with your Uncle and Aunt, pervert” Robin had already updated him. She kissed him back and laughed, slapping his hand away and pulling apart “come on, let me go and go get drunk like only you know.” Strike laughed and kissed her again.

She was sitting alone in the dark office, focused on the photos of the crime scene. Anstis had been there, them working together and trying to catch Wardle, but unsuccessfully, and Anstis had just left. Robin sighed leaning back in the chair. There had to be a way to catch him... then, she heard the front door open. She had forgotten to lock it when Anstis left.

“Corm?” Robin asked. She heard steps and grabbed a pocket knife she kept in her drawer, putting her hand on her pocket while holding it. She also took a recorder out of her drawer and left the drawer slightly opened for the sound to come in as she turned the recorder on and left it inside, recording. She felt her heartbeat accelerate as the door of the inside office opened and Wardle appeared, aiming at her head with his gun “Wardle.” She breathed deeply, standing up and walking towards him. If he was going to kill her, he’d have to look at her in the eyes while doing so.

“Congrats” Wardle smirked “I don’t know how you figured, I thought I paid those assholes well to shut up.”

“You did” Robin nodded “you just didn’t know someone else knew. They told me and today, chatting with Nick? You revealed you use the same gun that shot my fiancé. Strike, Anstis and myself have kept you in our minds for a long time so, when you kill me, you better hide in Russia or something, because Strike will find you and he’ll kill you.” Wardle gave a nod and shrugged.

“You’ve got no further proof against me. A bunch of people use my gun and it was dark in that alley, wasn’t it midnight? Your witness can’t swear it was me. And I left no proof. Strike will be unable to prove I was here either, I know how to clean after myself.”

“You’re right” Robin nodded “but you underestimate him, yet again. I thought you learnt the lesson but you just keep underestimating people.”

“You’re just some chick, thinking you could actually catch me. Laughable, I’m almost sad this is your end... but understand is either you or me. I can’t lose my job just because I didn’t catch some murders your man caught for me. I had to throw him off the game... unfortunately he somehow survived” he sighed “it’s okay, hopefully your death will do the trick. Otherwise, I can finish him off later, you won’t be here to stop me.”

“Woah, your job must be really important for you” Robin said sarcastically as she walked enough for the gun barrel’s end to press against her forehead. She tried to ignore the speed her heart was beating at, making her want to puke.

“Well, if I lost my job, I would have nothing else. I’d be a homeless in the street in a week.” Wardle shrugged “Any last words?” Robin gripped the pocketknife further and smiled.

“I installed security cameras here myself a week ago.” Robin spilled out. It was a lie, but the initial shock made Wardle’s eyes widen and he lost focus enough for Robin to quickly crutch, pull the pocketknife out of her pocket, pushing the button for the blade to come out, and stabbing him in the leg with such strength he yelled, blood started coming quickly, and his gun fell.

“Bitch!” Wardle fell to the floor, gripping his leg with both hands.

“Told you, you keep underestimating people!” Robin took the gun by the barrel using the tip of her sleeve trying not to fill it with her prints, and the pocketknife, and ran to the opposite corner of the office, leaving them on Strike’s desk. Then she ran back to Wardle, who was getting pale, holding into his leg groaning while blood kept pouring out of it “Let me help...” Robin ran to the mini kitchen they had, took a cloth from there, and ran back to Wardle, crutching in front of him and using it to put pressure on the wound “Press there, I’m going to call 999...”

“I won’t be arrested!” Wardle, enraged, hit her across the face with the back of his knuckles, making her fall to the floor. He then jumped on her, and they started fighting each other until, suddenly, Wardle fell unconscious on Robin.

“Wardle? Wardle!” Robin shook him, but he wasn’t moving. She moved him off her, a bruise in her forehead with a small bleeding cut, her lip also bleeding “Wardle” she shook him again, on the floor, and pressed her fingers against his neck. He barely had a heart beat and he was cold “No, no, bugger! Wardle, wake up!” she slapped his face softly, but nothing. She looked at his bleeding leg, red pouring copiously. She tied the cloth around his leg trying in vain to stop the bleeding and ran to the phone, calling 999 and Anstis. Then she ran back to Wardle and started performing CPR “Come on Wardle, don’t you die on me. Don’t die.” She kept repeating.

Ten minutes later, Anstis and the paramedics found her still hunched over him, trying to save his life, but Wardle was long gone.

**. . .**

Anstis kept an arm around Robin’s shoulders for comfort as he pressed the doorbell of Robin and Strike’s home in Hackney repeatedly. Robin was in shock, pale and barely even blinking, but her superficial face wounds had already been treated and the blood in her hands, cleaned. However, there were some blood stains in her leggings. Anstis squeezed her a bit tighter as the door opened and Uncle Ted appeared. He took two seconds to look at Robin and his expression changed to pure worry.

“Robin! What happened?” Ted rushed to hug her and she practically fell into her arms, small as a cat against Ted’s huge appearance. Ted looking questioningly at Anstis.

“Wardle attacked her at the office. She accidentally... well, he’s dead. It was self defence, not her fault, but she’s all shocked, comprehensively.” Anstis explained. Ted’s face showed horror but he moved to let him inside. Ted barely needed to make an effort to carry Robin in his big arms, her legs around his hips as he carried her the same way he’d carry Daniel or Sophie, or the same way he had carried Cormoran and Lucy when they were children. Robin was shaking in his arms.

The three walked to the sitting room, where Strike sat in the sofa with his future parents in law and Aunt Joan, having a drink. The three had heard Ted and kept their eyes glued to the entrance of the room full of concern. Strike went pale when he saw Robin, but couldn’t stand to get her.

“Robin!” Strike breathed out. Ted put her on the sofa next to him and her mother and Linda instantly hugged her “are you okay baby?” Strike caressed her face with the only hand he could use, seeing she was irresponsive “Robin...” he looked at Anstis questioningly.

“Wardle’s dead” Anstis explained “he shot you, and he went to shoot her in the office. Robin fought with a pocketknife and in the commotion... it was an accident, she didn’t mean it. She’s in shock, understandably. But she’s a smart girl and has it all recorded, since the moment he came into the office. I took it. I’m not going to arrest her.” Strike’s jaw dropped a little and he looked at Robin again.

“Did he hurt her? What did he do to her face?”

“Barely scratches, the paramedics already checked” Anstis said “the blood on her knees is Wardle’s. She... she stabbed him on the leg. Got an artery. She tried to stop the bleeding with a cloth, but he just... she called me and the paramedics and when we got there, she was performing a good CPR, but he had already bleed out to death.”

“Oh my baby!” Linda held Robin like a child in her lap, kissing her forehead. Robin started crying and Linda held her closer. Strike felt like killing Wardle again.

“If she hadn’t done it, he would’ve shot her to death. I heard the recording. He confessed everything and Robin’s brain fooled him enough for her to save her life. She wasn’t meaning to kill him.” Anstis assured her “Please make sure to remind her.”

“Of course” Strike said “thanks for bringing her home to us Anstis.” Anstis nodded.

“I’ll call tomorrow. Good luck.” Anstis looked at Robin, who cried as if she had killed someone loved, and left the house, Ted locking the door behind him.

 


	38. Teaming up to protect her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strike and Matthew only work together under one condition

That night pills were necessary to bring Robin to sleep. In the morning, they made breakfast and tried to act as normally as possible, letting her sleep her pain off. Strike, who knew the feeling of the first killing, made sure everyone let her be in peace upstairs, and looked after her. Lucy came hurriedly the moment she heard what had happened.

“Poor thing” Lucy looked sadly at the tea in her hands.

“Yeah well, I’m happy if the judge sees this like that.” Strike sighed, sitting with the babies on the sofa to give them baby milks “Daniel, drink it all okay buddy?” the babies could now hold their own bottles, so he just gave them and watched.

“I won’t let her go to jail.” Ilsa assured him.

“Maybe I should” Robin had just appeared in the doorstep. Her hair was dishevelled and she was still rather pale and in her pyjamas. She went to sit with the babies and Cormoran “I killed him. I took the pocketknife, and nailed it on his leg as hard as I could. Like self-defence classes said...” Strike reached a hand to caress her cheek.

“You did well, Robin. You did everything the right way. This was an accident, you tried to save him and you don’t deserve jail.” Strike assured.

“It was my decision to stab his leg” Robin replied “I had a choice and I-“

“You didn’t have a choice. Your life or his it’s not a choice, is survival instinct.” Strike argued. He groaned as he moved to pull Robin into his embrace and she gladly accepted it, leaning against his chest “I know how it feels like Robin... but unfortunately, you were put in a situation in which the only outs possible would all hurt you in some way. This was only the least of two evils. Just remember that you didn’t put yourself in that situation, you didn’t choose to be there.”

“I guess” Robin closed her eyes, pressing her cheek against his chest “there’ll be a trial though.”

“Yeah” Ilsa sighed “I’ll defend you. It’ll be okay, don’t worry much. With that recording you made the accusation will have it really hard to make you look like a cold blooded murderer. Except...”

“...except if they say knowing I was being recorded I said the right things.” Robin finished. Ilsa nodded.

“But in any case, Anstis and the paramedics witnessed you trying to save his life, and we all saw how shocked you’ve been” Ilsa continued “plus, he confesses it all in the recording, there’s no way he’ll look like an innocent man to the jury. And we’ll get that witness of yours, you said it’s a homeless, right? We’ll offer him money, easy.”

“That isn’t my biggest worry Ilsa. I took a life. And I don’t care that he almost killed Corm and myself, I took a life. I won’t forgive myself for that.” Robin sighed into Cormoran’s chest and he put his arm tighter around her and kissed her head. Strike wanted to tell her that eventually she’d be okay, but he hadn’t forgotten the first time he killed and he didn’t want to lie to her ever.

The trial came a month later. A month in which Strike recovered enough to get rid of his sling, recover full strength in both arms, and his brain managed to start working almost fine, without forgetting which day it was, and being able to do tasks without draining himself or do math and walk half okay with the crutches. During that month Robin spent two hours in therapy every single day and yet, she’d wake up at night, she wouldn’t want to step in the office, she didn’t want to be alone in a room. Part of Strike thought she was back at being rapped, all scared, dreaming with the gun pointing at her head, and add feeling disgusting for taking a life.

“Can you tell us exactly what happened that night?” Ilsa was asking Robin during the trial. The trial judged several causes, one, the murder attempt towards himself, another the murder attempt towards Robin, and another, Wardle’s death. They tried to judge who was guilty of each, and it was the second day after the previous day they had spoken about the facts around Strike’s murder attempt.

“Sure” Robin nodded. She wore her best suit and tried not to seem nervous, relishing on the feeling of her engagement ring in her hand “My fiancé and I had just put our one year old twins to sleep and I went to our office because I had strong suspicions that Wardle had been the one to shoot my fiancé, so I wanted to focus, do some research, get enough evidence to use in a trial. Our office has a main door that goes into our secretary’s desk and a small kitchen and the bathroom, and then another door leads to the inside office, where my fiancé’s and my desk are. I was there, sitting in my desk with my computer, when a couple hours later I heard the main door open. At first, I thought it was my fiancé, but he could barely walk at the time due to his injures, let alone climb all the stairs to our office by himself. And Anstis had no reason to be there, he had left a while ago. He had been with me discussing the case, researching with me, and when he left I forgot to lock the door behind him. I expected no one else, our secretary had been given August off, so...” Robin shrugged “I knew almost as soon as I hear the door open that I had an intruder, so I took the pocketknife I always keep in my drawer for safety, because we already had a murderer attack my fiancé there a few years ago, and sometimes people really pissed come into the office, without mentioning our boxes of death threats. I set the recorder, that’s also in my drawer because well, my job often requires me to record things, I left it there recording, left the drawer a bit opened so the sound would come easily, and then I kept the pocketknife inside my fist in my pocket. Right when I did that, Wardle entered my office.” Robin explained staying calm and talking clearly “Everything that happened is what you heard in the recording, it was working the whole time until Anstis took it when he and the paramedics arrived and I told him it was there. Wardle was pointing a gun to my head the whole time” her voice quivered, but she took a deep breath and went on with watery eyes “I approached him as much as possible until the gun was right in front of me, got him to confess. Figured if I... if something happened to me... my fiancé would find the recorder and go after Wardle. He’d know how I...” Robin gulped and breathed deeply again “I knew Wardle wouldn’t fear that I got closer because he saw me as a weak person, not a threat. He underestimated me a lot, and also underestimated my fiancé. He was always mocking us every time he had the chance. So I got as close as I could to him and when the time came, I quickly crutched and... I pressed the knife in his leg. In self defence classes after I was raped in university” she continued, a silent tear falling down her cheek “I was taught to hit as hard as I could, and that’s what I did. I didn’t mean to kill him. He dropped the gun, so I got the knife and his gun as far as possible to make sure he wouldn’t try again to kill me and then I saw how much he was bleeding and ran to the kitchen to get a cloth, tried to stop the bleeding.”

“We could hear a fight” Ilsa commented “how did that happen?”

“Well, I crutched to try and help him, press the cloth on his wound” Robin explained “I told him I had to call 999 because I realised it was serious, and he didn’t like it, so he hit me. He didn’t want police to find him. He threw himself on top of me and was hitting me, and I hit him just to try and protect myself, but it was very quick and lasted very little. In seconds he fainted on me. I realised he was cold and barely had a pulse so I called 999 and Anstis, I tied the cloth around Wardle’s leg to try keep him from bleeding out, and started CPR until the paramedics took over. I never wanted him to die. I... I didn’t want to kill anyone, I just wanted to live and see my babies again.” She sniffled loudly and looked down. Ilsa looked sadly at her.

“It’s okay Ms Ellacott, you’re alright now” Ilsa assured. She gave Robin a few seconds to calm down, during which Strike fought the desire of running to hug his fiancée “Ms Ellacott” Ilsa continued then “have Wardle and you ever fought or argued before?”

“Never” Robin said “he doesn’t fond me or my fiancé, but when we’ve had cases together, we’ve managed. He wasn’t necessarily polite to us, ever, but he wasn’t aggressive, I’ll admit. Neither were we.”

“Did Inspector Wardle help in the investigation of Mr Strike’s attack?”

“No. It was Inspector Anstis’ case.” Robin answered “Richard Anstis is a good old friend of my fiancé from the army. My fiancé saved his life and is godfather to his son. I had known him for a while and I knew I could trust him to help us.”

“Did you ever ask Wardle about his whereabouts on the night of the attack?”

“Yes” Robin nodded “when my fiancé expressed concern about the possibility that Wardle had finally had enough with the way we’d often leave him in ridicule and done something about it as attacking him, I went to talk with him. I know my fiancé’s gut is to be trusted. Wardle said he had been at work and then at home, there was nothing to indicate otherwise but also no one saw him after work.”

“What was your professional opinion, as an detective, about Wardle as a suspect prior to him attacking you?” Ilsa asked.

“I thought he made sense. I knew him, he had a strong temper, I knew he had the same gun that shot my fiancé and that he knew bad people that’d do anything for money and that even if he didn’t have money, he could still offer protection or whatever” Robin breathed deeply again “I thought he had a chance, a strong motive, methods and opportunity. He was a very solid suspect.”

“Lastly, Ms Ellacott, is it often that you stay so late in the office, weren’t you concerned about Wardle coming after you?”

“I do work until that late often. My fiancé and I, we just tend to get caught up in work, when we start investigating we get the thrill of being about to win a game or something, we lose sense of time. I didn’t even realise how late it was, and my family knows better than to call me, because my fiancé is the first to understand how it is like and knows I wouldn’t be capable of sleeping until I was fully satisfied with my work.” Robin explained “Of course I was worried but...” she shrugged “I was feeling that thrill. And I was more worried about Wardle or whoever coming to my fiancé and finish the job. Besides, I figured I was safer there than around the street, where my fiancé was attacked.”

After Robin was interrogated, Ilsa called another witness.

“Matthew Cunliffe.”

Strike and Robin frowned and looked back to see Matthew walking to the stand. They didn’t know Ilsa was calling him.

“Mr Cunliffe” Ilsa started eventually “for how long have you known Ms Ellacott?”

“Uh...” Matthew counted “since school. Sixth grade. Over ten years now.”

“Would you say she can be cruel, physically aggressive? Would you say she enjoys torture, gore...?”

“Oh, no, no” Matthew shook his head firmly “she’s super sweet, she wouldn’t hurt a fly and she doesn’t even yell often, let alone get aggressive, never happened. She can’t even see certain parts of Grey’s Anatomy or crime shows if they’re bloody or too aggressive. She doesn’t enjoy horse races because she says is animal torture. She despises all those things. Even when people do things to change dogs’ appearance it bothers her.”

“Have you ever heard her wish someone’s death? Even joking?” Ilsa asked.

“Never.” Matthew said firmly “She’s... well, when she told me she did self defence I laughed because I honestly can’t picture her doing any harm to anyone.”

The lawyer of Wardle’s family called Strike to declare.

“Mr Strike, is it true that you witnessed Ms Ellacott hit Mr John Snow in 2010?”

“To save my life, yes.” Strike nodded.

“She also hit a man once around the street, didn’t she? Ended up in the hospital with a wound in her arm?” Strike frowned lightly.

“Excuse me, do you mean a man who attacked her in the street and tried to kill her? She must’ve hurt him so much with her tiny fists and a rape alarm while, you know, he had a knife. You said it yourself, she winded up at the hospital with a sliced arm while he ran away happily. She would be dead if she hadn’t protected herself. ” Strike commented ironically. The lawyer blushed, but continued his own path.

“Ms Ellacott is also inclined to disobey the rules, or didn’t she drive dangerously a few years ago, almost causing a car accident, on the way back from Devon? You were with her.”

“No.” Strike said firmly “Someone else drove dangerously almost hitting our car when they swayed into our lane in opposite direction. Robin was driving our car and manoeuvred and saved our lives that day.”

“Do you reckon she’d kill to protect her family?” the lawyer asked. Strike went pale and looked at Robin, who stared anxiously at him. He knew the truthful answer, but he couldn’t say that. So he decided to lie in a trial, despite being under oath. The lawyer had a triumphed expression. “Well?”

“No” Strike said just as firmly as before. There were murmurs around “I know my fiancée, she may say some things when she’s angry, although I’ve never heard her threaten someone, but I’m sure she’ll chicken out, panic, if she ever saw herself in position to kill someone, even if it was to protect her family. She could only kill someone well... by complete accident. And she’d panic right after. Which ironically, is exactly what happened after Wardle died, she freaked the fuck out, and she’s been going to therapy two hours daily ever since just so she can sleep at night.” He said it fast enough so no one would cut him, but also clearly enough. The lawyer’s expression got serious and rather angry.

“No more questions.” The lawyer said.

“Would Ms Herbert like to ask anything to this witness?” the judge asked. Ilsa nodded getting up.

“Yes your honour. Ms Strike” Ilsa said “You’re a Private Detective, you’re known for being very observant and figuring people out pretty well from the start, right?”

“That’s how I’m usually described, yes.”

“Would you please, for this jury, make a precise description of Ms Ellacott’s personality? I want you to do it leaving aside your feelings for her as your fiancée as much as you can and focusing from the professional point of view.” Ilsa asked. Strike nodded slowly, looking at Robin again.

“She’s the most loving, kindest person I’ve ever known. She’s pure light.” Strike said “You see, at the office, I’m more the grumpy ogre and I’m not good at social interactions, so when our clients come, she’s the one to offer them tea, cookies, a sweet smile and show the most empathy and kindness when listening to their problems. We see many crying people at work, people who think their loved ones cheat on them or something, and Robin goes and hugs them and tells them everything is going to be alright while I just sit there awkwardly.” Strike described “She just wants to help everyone and make this world a better place. I fired her once, years ago, because she wanted to help a girl so badly that yes, she managed, but in exchange our investigation suffered a bit. Little after we met, I was going through a rough patch, emotionally, I got so drunk I could hardly think. She suspected I was sad when I had left her at the office so she went after me, looked for me through half London pubs, and when she found me she listened to my shit, bought me dinner, didn’t stop until I was back in my office, where I lived then, and with some painkillers at close distance. I know she didn’t do that because she was in love, because we barely knew each other then and she was Matthew Cunliffe’s fiancée. And not much after that, I hurt my leg accidentally, I couldn’t walk with my prosthesis. She had been with me when it happened, and she supported all my weight, and you’ve seen our size difference and I was way less thin back then, through a bunch of streets until she could sit me at a bar and go buy me a cane. When Matthew’s mother died, she received a call while at work. She didn’t even ask me for permission to leave, and she had been working for me for a few months so I was her boss and she was my secretary. She said Matthew’s mother had died and she had to go, and she left, just like that. She wouldn’t have ignored him in that moment for the world. She took a night train after a whole trip to Devon, running to be at the woman’s funeral.”

“So you would describe her as kind, wholehearted, loving?” Ilsa offered.

“Surely” Strike nodded “from day one, I only had good vibes from her. I knew she was different from all the temporal workers I had had, she was so hardworking and dedicated and passionate about helping people, which is why she became my partner instead of just a secretary forever. I fell in love with her precisely because of her enormous heart. And I know anyone who saw her like I have, put her life on hold for a month to for example be at the hospital with me with this attack when I was unable to leave a bed for almost a month, wake up ten times at night so I don’t have to overwork myself with the leg, and go to the nursery and attend our children... they wouldn’t think she could ever hurt a fly if it wasn’t by accident. She’s just... so helpful and dedicated, her entire existence is about helping someone. She was the one to convince me to take Colin Thomas’ case too, because she, as a pregnant woman then, felt for those parents and wouldn’t have let Colin get hurt, she would’ve died first. Just like she would’ve died for any of her family and friends. She doesn’t care if I’m a difficult disabled person either, she finds the strength to help me get up when I’m in too much pain to do it myself, or shower, or go upstairs to our bedroom, or change... she took all my cases plus hers plus the investigation of my attack, all in her shoulders for a month and a half since I got attacked. And in 2011, when Whittaker almost killed me, she not only believed I was innocent and fought to prove it the whole time, after I had fired her and stopped talking with her for months, but she was also willing to confront Whittaker and save my life, coming with the police where he had me without knowing he was already out of combat. I don’t think a cold blooded murderer would do any of that, and I should know because I’ve put in prison a few murderers, some of them serial killers, and Robin has absolutely nothing in common with them.”

 


	39. Happy days

To no one’s surprise, Robin was declared innocent of all charges. Wardle was also found guilty of two murder attempts and, if he wasn’t dead, he would’ve spent a sweet time in prison. They were all standing around the corridor outside the courtroom just chatting, and Strike crutched his way between the multitude looking for Robin. He finally found her crying in Matthew’s arms. He breathed deeply, close enough to hear her words.

“You fucked up talking with press about me, but now you’ve done good Matt, really good” she sobbed “thank you... thank you for trying to help...”

“I’m so sorry for everything I’ve done Robin” Matt said hugging her tightly “I just want you to know I’m here for you. That I’ll always do my best to help you when you need it. I want us to be friends after all these years.”

“I’d love that Matt...” Robin sniffled and smiled at him pulling apart. Then she saw Strike “Corm!” she called for him, and he crutched his way to her. She hugged him tightly, kissing him.

“What you said down there, it was beautiful, love...” Robin kissed him again and adjusted his tie. She rubbed her face to remove the tears and smiled at him.

“It was just the truth.” Strike kissed her forehead, wishing he had free hands to put his arms around her “I love you birdie.” Robin hugged him again.

“I love you too.” Robin pulled apart and took Matthew’s hand “Here, I want you two to start over. We’re going to be friends now, with Matt.” She explained Cormoran, who raised his eyebrows in surprise “I’ve forgiven him for everything and I want him and his girlfriend Diana at our wedding, okay?”

“Sure” Strike nodded. For one moment it was as if all Matthew had done to Robin over the years, every stupid comment, every fight... everything, came rushing back to his mind at once. But then, he saw Robin’s loving eyes on himself, and he understood her heart was big enough to forgive and forget all of that and remember Matthew for who he had been, a friend since childhood. Her best friend probably. And her first love. So if she could do that, he’d do it for her. Strike then smiled honestly at Matthew, who looked scared of him, and managed to put all his weight on his leg, hold the crutches in one hand, and use the other one to shake his hand “now is going to be nice to meet you.” Matthew laughed softly and shook it back with sympathy.

“Man, I’m glad she’s ending up with a bloke like you. The job of her dreams and a man who truly understands her and doesn’t make stupid comments about her. She’s lucky.” Matthew commented.

“I am the lucky one.” Strike side smiled looking at Robin, and winked at her. She looked at them happily “So, let’s go home to our babies, love?”

“Can’t wait.” Robin grinned tearfully.

At the house, they did a mini party to celebrate Robin’s freedom and the end of over a month of anxiety and stress. Robin took the twins in her arms and sat on the sofa chatting with Diana and Matthew while they drank beer, and Strike decided to join them. To his surprise, when Matthew wasn’t making stupid comments about women he was actually a nice dude to talk with. They talked about sports, the army (Matthew’s father had served), their respective jobs or their favourite trips, while the girls talked about the babies, their jobs, their love stories, funny memories and horses, which Robin loved. Diana was a nice girl too, apparently she was a counsellor Matthew had gone to after his divorce and she had kind of removed the stupidity from him, making him realize the comments and actions that were wrong and how unfair he had been to Robin in many occasions. After that, she had fallen for him and now they had been together for almost a year.

“So how about you, have you been together for long, with kids and all?” Diana asked with Daniel in her lap. She wasn’t the typical model, she was blonde, short haired, with big brown eyes and a soft spot for babies. Daniel loved playing with her necklace and despite the possibility of him breaking it, Diana just let him.

“We started a bit after Matthew and I divorced actually” Robin answered “and then well, a broken condom.” She blushed and Diana laughed “But hey, no regrets. These kids are the best thing that ever happened to me. It’s going to be so sweet to have them participate at the wedding, they’ll be walking any day now.”

“Sophie already crawls backwards and all” Strike chimed in “Daniel is a bit slower, but he just gets easily distracted.”

“Oh, ADD?” Diana frowned in concern. She couldn’t help her counsellor side.

“Well, the paediatrician said it’s just curiosity” Robin said “still we’re trying to teach him to focus in one thing at a time, and he seems to be getting better at that. Like now he’s all focused in your necklace, a few months ago he’d be distracted with a fly.” Robin smiled sweetly at her son, caressing his head softly.

“Aw... detectives’ son am I right?” Matthew joked. Sophie then started crying against his father’s belly.

“Mommyyy!” she cried out reaching her tiny arms towards Robin, who immediately reached her hands to scoop Sophie up.

“Aw... are you hungry my love?” Robin kissed her forehead “Do you guys mind if I breastfeed her here?”

“Not at all” Diana smiled adoringly at Sophie. Matthew nodded in agreement. Robin smiled and nonchalantly opened her shirt just enough to let Sophie’s lips grab her nipple. She immediately stopped crying.

“Wow, that was easy.” Matthew was impressed.

“She’s usually the hungry one like her father” Robin looked lovingly at Strike, who chuckled.

“Strike stomachs are basically a black hole.” Strike joked patting his own, making them laugh. Sophie closed her eyes as she fondly held onto her mother’s breast, her tiny teeth not disturbing Robin much.

“She’s adorable” Matthew commented looking fondly at Sophie.

“So have you guys already chosen a song for the first dance?” Ilsa came casually sitting with them, Aria in her arms playing with something. Strike had the feeling she was just checking how much of a dickhead Matthew was.

“I’m trying to convince Corm to choose ‘Magic Works’ from Harry Potter 4.” Robin laughed looking at Strike, who rolled eyes as they laughed.

“How nerdy do you want our wedding to be exactly?” Strike grumbled.

“Oh come on, is super romantic and sweet! And very danceable” Robin argued.

“When’s the wedding?” Matthew asked.

“January 14 th ” they answered in unison.

“It’s when we felt the first good kick from the twins” Robin elaborated.

“Besides, Robin is stubborn about freezing at our wedding” Strike joked.

“That’s so sweet that you’d choose the day based on that!” Diana looked pleased, leaning to kiss Daniel’s head.

“It’s funny, we almost got married in January but my mother died” Matthew commented. Robin nodded awkwardly.

“Yeah, well it’s a good month, and Robin gets to wear long sleeves, that make her feel more comfortable...” Strike tried to divert the conversation “in summer, it’d crash with the twins’ birthdays and it’s also so hot and sweaty it’s impossible, in the fall we tend to have so much work plus it rains a lot, and then we’ve got our own birthdays, it’s a busy period already... then in spring there are the allergies, so it had to be winter. And February collides with Valentine’s, too many dates together, and then December is Christmas and NYE, people isn’t on the mood to spend more on weddings, and we’re paying it ourselves so...” he shrugged.

“January better” Robin nodded “Strike was adamant in having a wedding inside our budget, without starting our married life in debt.” She chuckled kissing his cheek.

“It’s going to be freezing cold for the babies though” Ilsa commented.

“That’s why coats exist” Strike joked “we’ll sort something out. Robin adores snow.”

“For sure” Matthew smiled “so is it like, in Masham?”

“No” Robin looked happy about it “Corm had told me everything about this castle in St Mawes, we visited it during Christmas before we were even engaged and I just loved it, and turns out Corm’s Aunt is friends with the owners. So we already reserved it! St Mawes is just so pretty it’ll be perfect, and they have heater in the castle.”

“And it doesn’t snow much in St Mawes, just a bit” Strike added.

“Aw, such a beautiful place” Ilsa smiled happily “all huge round rooms with wooden surfaces covering the stone ceiling and floor, beautiful columns and big windows all over, all of them facing the ocean.” Strike nodded with a smug smile.

“My mother used to take my sister and I there. It’s special.” Strike explained.

“And absolutely gorgeous” Robin chuckled “where you already thinking of marrying me there when you planned the proposal?”

“It may’ve crossed my mind.” Strike looked smug.

“Sounds cool, although I’m surprised it’s not a church. You were so adamant in a church always.” Matthew commented.

“Turns out it’s incredibly complicated to convince a priest to marry you after you’re divorced” Robin explained “but I don’t really mind, if not we would’ve insisted. I just knew that was the place since the moment I first went to that castle, and I wasn’t engaged but I thought ‘damn, if Corm and I married, it’d have to be here’. Besides, we aren’t really religious. The kids aren’t even baptised, Ilsa and Nick are their godparents only symbolically.” Strike nodded supportively.

“It didn’t feel quite appropriate to have a religious wedding when neither of us lives that lifestyle... and Lucy heard about on location civil weddings, she said they can be cool. So far, we’re happy with it, we get to choose things with more freedom.” Strike commented.

“You know where you should go on a honeymoon?” Ilsa suggested “Regensburg, in South Germany? Nick and I went there a few summers ago, it was incredible, gorgeous and so peaceful compared to London. We’ve been meaning to go with Aria when she’s a bit bigger.”

“We had actually decided not to go on a honeymoon, since we didn’t feel excited about the idea of separating from the kids for days and we’re workaholics” Robin chuckled “but the idea of a trip with the kids sounds great, and I’ve never been to Germany.”

“Really?” Strike looked curious “I was there a bit while in the army. I actually speak German fluently.” Strike commented. Now it was Robin’s turn to be astonished.

“No!” Robin was shocked.

“Ja, mein Liebe” Strike whispered smug.

“I don’t know the fuck you just said but it sounded so sexy” Robin chuckled kissing him “so Regensburg it is?”

“Regensburg it is.” Strike nodded “We could go for the kids’ birthday, since it’s Ginny’s holiday month anyway, we all take it off? You guys could come with Aria, by the way.” Strike looked at Ilsa.

“Yeah, it’ll be so much fun!” Robin seemed happy, genuinely happy, after so many sad days, and it made Strike feel warm inside, so he couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm.

“Then it’s decided!” Ilsa grinned.

 


	40. The story of the giant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The bed time story moment is heavily inspired by a real moment I had with my nephews one time I was babysitting ;) They loved the tale.

That afternoon, their families went back to St Mawes and Masham, respectively. Strike had to recognize it felt weird to have the house so silent after so many weeks with their family there, but it also brought back  _privacy_ and  _intimacy_ . So Strike didn’t have to care about being in his boxers while he took care of the children’s bath, Robin showering and changing into her pyjamas in the bathroom of their room in the meantime.

“Doc” Sophie said holding a yellow bath duck towards Strike, who sat on the floor by the bathtub. Daniel and Sophie sat inside of a big plastic thing that they used to carry the clothes from the washing machine to the clothes line in the garden  _and_ to bathe them safely, inside the bathtub, surrounded in toys. Both kids had their chubby light bodies on display, covered in freckles, their green eyes going from toy to toy as their tiny chubby fists caught each.

“That’s a duck, baby girl. Duck.” Strike corrected her. Sophie frowned in confusion, as if she was saying ‘that’s what I said, daddy’, and Strike chuckled, finding it adorable “And what’s that, Daniel?” he added as he saw Daniel holding his little penis with curiosity.

“Uh?” Daniel looked up at him with a look that reminded Strike so much of Robin.

“That’s a penis, baby boy.” Strike explained “Your little penis. Your sister doesn’t have one doesn’t she?” Daniel looked at Sophie with curiosity “That’s because she’s a girl and you’re a boy. At least, that’s what your bodies say.” He added the last one as a mere murmur, rubbing shampoo on Daniel’s brown hair and then clearing it carefully so the shampoo wouldn’t get in his eyes.

“Daddy” Sophie handed Strike a little donkey toy “was?”

“This is a donkey, love.” Strike smiled at her curiosity “Donkeys live in the countryside. You’ll see them next time we go.” Daniel splashed the water happily and Strike laughed softly “Having fun there, buddy? Are you going to be a drummer?” Daniel laughed and Sophie joined him splashing water. Strike found himself mesmerized by the way they uncovered the world around them and found joy in the simplest of things.

“So how’s it going?” Robin appeared by the doorframe and chuckled at the kids “someone’s having some fun, isn’t it? They’ll be swimming any day now.”

“Mommy!” Daniel called her “woyer!”

“Water, yeah!” Robin smiled at him “Has daddy bathed you good?” Strike had met many sides of Robin. Drunk Robin, Matthew’s fiancée, Robin the secretary, Matthew’s wife, Robin the partner, Robin the angry, Robin the loving, and then Robin the mother, which was his favourite. The attentive mother who had bigger breasts due to breastfeeding, a bit more pounds than two years ago due to having children and not having time for gym, the beauty that only mothering could give you, with those eyes brighter every time a baby of hers came into sight, her orange hair dishevelled, the little pyjama shorts that left Strike to linger at her long legs, the too big sleeveless tee. Strike found that it was in those domestic moments when he felt the happier.

“Daddy bathed them” Strike nodded, his right arm sank on the tub as Daniel held onto it, using it as a hairy highway for his cars “so bedtime?”

“Yeah” Robin dreaded bedtime, nightmares and shitty memories coming back to haunt her sleep, but she hoped now she could finally sleep, maybe now that the trials were over for her “let’s get them out...” Robin grabbed Sophie’s towel and knelt on the floor next to strike, holding the little one by the armpits “come on Soph sweetie, let’s get you into your pyjama, shall we?” one by one they rubbed them dry with the towels, put their diapers and pyjamas, and set them into their cribs. Strike and Robin sat then on the bay window’s bench and Robin took a few books.

“Okay, which one today?” Robin asked.

“Gi’nt!” Daniel demanded. It was their favourite.

“So Sophie and Daniel and the magic beans.” Strike translated. Robin chuckled and left the books aside, she knew it by heart. Well, their version -adapted for age and all- of it at least. It was the only tale Strike knew by heart because it was the one he and Lucy always liked, so he had told the babies the tale since they were born, in the hospital, while Robin was in surgery.

“Close your eyes” Robin told her children, already tucked in “a long, long time ago, there were two siblings, Sophie and Daniel, who lived in a small house in Cornwall, with vast green fields around the house, where their family had several animals, such as cows or horses.” She told in a soft voice, watching the babies fall into Morfeo’s arms only illuminated by the moonlight and streetlight that came through the window “The siblings were asked one day to sell one of their cows in downtown, so one day they took the cow and walked all the way there, trying to find someone who’d buy the cow. At last, someone offered them a fistful of magic beans in exchange of the cow. When the twins came back home, they planted the beans outside the house. The next morning, a huge! Huge! Plant had grown, so tall it disappeared between the clouds. The twins climbed the plant together, and there they found a huge house of giants...”

When the story was finished, and they always finished it no matter when the babies fell asleep, Strike crutched his way to their bed while Robin followed him, and he offered his arms to Robin, who snuggled into them, her hands lingering on the many scars of his torso. Robin loved to feel the softness of his chest hair against her cheek, his body scent invading her nose as he closed his eyes with his mouth pressed against her hair.

“Matthew wasn’t so bad today” Strike murmured in the darkness “you think he’ll stay nice?”

“I hope so” Robin whispered snuggling further into his chest.

“Do you have therapy in the morning?”

“Yeah...”

“Goodnight then, love. You’ll see how you sleep well tonight, you’re safe.”

“Goodnight giant.” Robin chuckled against his chest.

In another time, Strike would’ve woken up the second Robin wasn’t in bed with him. But ever since they had children, both of them felt too tired to wake up. So it wasn’t surprising for Strike to wake up too early and don’t see Robin. Knowing he wouldn’t fall asleep again and the twins would be asleep for a few more hours, he just got up and went downstairs. He used his leg exclusively for the stairs as to not kill himself, and rested the leg the rest of the time, using the crutches as his doctor advised. He crutched his way into the sitting room and frowned when he saw Robin fully dressed and ready to go, sitting on the sofa looking through the window with a cup of red wine in her hand, bags under her eyes visible through the makeup.

“It’s four thirty” Strike said. Robin took a sip of the wine and looked at him exhaustedly.

“Morning?” she offered. Strike sighed and let himself fall on the sofa next to her.

“Still not sleeping?” Strike asked.

“Yup” Robin took another sip “slept three hours, all nightmares and stuff, impossible to rest. Then woke up, it was 2AM and I decided I wasn’t going back to those gore movies my dreams are, so... came here.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve been drinking wine for two hours and a half.” Strike sighed. He hated to see her so defeated, but that’s what a month of brokenness did.

“Technically” Robin slurred “two hours. I had to get all ready first. I got therapy at 9.”

“Well, then you’re going to stop, lightweight. Let’s try to sober you up before that so you can actually drive.” Strike took the cup ignoring her complaints and held it in his mouth as he crutched to the kitchen, where he dropped. Robin followed him and sat on a stool “I’m going to make you an actual breakfast.”

“You should go to sleep” Robin said “we don’t have to both be miserable.”

“I’d rather be here making you breakfast. I love spending time with you.” Strike said nonchalantly preparing some pancakes and tea “You know, if you want to get better is not just about getting a therapist, you also need to take care of yourself. Eat healthy, go jogging, those things.”

“Says the living example.” Robin mumbled.

“Precisely because I spent over thirty years of life drowning my sorrows in alcohol, I know it helps nothing. I got overweight, looked terrible and felt terrible.” Strike argued “Look, we all did this shit in the army. Taking a life is... well, is not easy. It’s damn hard. And it feels so unfair when that’s the situation one’s in, without choosing it or really having options... it sucks. But life is like that sometimes, and you need to try to stay strong and move on.”

“Difference between you and me Corm” Robin slurred “is that I didn’t choose to kill. You went into the army willingly. When you took a gun, even if it was to defend yourself, you knew what would happen, and you volunteered. I was just... trying to...” she sighed “I just wanted to solve a case and make sure no one hurt my family again.” Strike looked at her, all defeated with her head on her arms, on the kitchen bar. He sighed, flipping the pancake and leaning on the kitchen bar towards Robin, massaging her skull softly.

“Yeah” Strike nodded “which is why you should be the first one to forgive yourself. If you had known things would get so out of control if you stabbed his leg, you wouldn’t have done it.” Robin looked up from her arms, raising her head slowly. Her eyes were bloodshot and teary, her face of pure exhaustion.

“I really thought I didn’t have to be afraid to sleep tonight” Robin murmured “I... I can’t do this anymore, Corm... I need to rest, not just sleep. I need... I need...” she started falling apart and Strike put the pancake on the plate, turned the gas off and hoped to hug Robin tightly as she cried in his arms “I can’t...” she sobbed.

“We’ll fix this. We’ll get you back on track. I promise.” Strike kissed her head.

“This is not working” Strike looked sternly at Robin’s therapist, an older woman that reminded Strike of Maggie Smith. He had decided it was  _enough_ and called the nanny and accompanied Robin to therapy that morning. Robin sat on the sofa next to him, looking actually sick, the lack of sleep starting to really weight on her. And Strike had enough. He couldn’t sit and see her be a zombie, barely able to answer questions, so pale the sun made her shine, while her therapist seemed useless “she’s been here for a month, and look at her. She was drunk before five in the morning today. She’s destroyed. And you are supposed to be helping her.”

“It takes time, Mr Strike...”

“Okay” Strike did his best to keep a soft voice, as to not bother Robin, who was already nursing a headache and sobbing silently in desperation as her situation didn’t get better “she’s come here two hours a day, every day for a month. You aren’t cheap but we thought she needed the best of the best, so we didn’t mind. She writes her dreams down, she talks about them with you, and me, and our friends, she tries with and without pills, she tries relaxing baths, tea and music before bed, and all the weird methods internet has to offer. She’s no better, if anything, she just keeps getting worse. So please tell me, how much more time does she need for any improvement? Because I don’t think she has much more time. I think at this rhythm, she’s going to wind up in the hospital. And I think you just want to get more money out of us while you’re useless for her. So please, be honest enough to recognize this isn’t working and we’ll go and find someone who can help, so she doesn’t end up dying from this bullshit.” He said as politely as he could.

“Well let’s do this” the therapist said after a while “I’ll return all the money you’ve paid, because you’re right, this hasn’t been working as I would’ve expected” Strike nodded, grateful for the consideration “I think at this point... maybe it’s better to go to a sleep therapist, in the hospital. I know you were reticent at first, but it’s the only option left I can think of. I’m sorry I can’t help.”

Back at home, Strike helped Robin change into her comfiest clothes, gave her sleeping pills and a good mug of hot tea, tucked her in the sofa with her favourite blanket, and put some relaxing music in the restroom, only illuminated by a lamp. He was done with empty promises from specialists. He put the children to nap in the sitting room too, and he took a mountain of Robin’s favourite childhood books and started reading out loud.

He read as he moved to change diapers, warm up baby bottles and make lunch. He read as he opened the door to Lucy and Ilsa -Greg went with the children to a classmate’s birthday lunch and Nick was at work still- without stopping to ask about their lives, he read until his voice got hoarse, and kept reading through lunch, between munching and munching. He finally stopped reading five hours after Robin had fallen asleep, when his throat was just exhausted and she hadn’t shown any signs of nightmares for once, just curled up in the sofa without moving.

“Today was rock bottom uh?” Lucy whispered as they stared at Robin in silence from the lunch table. Aria and the twins played without being overly loud on their mat in the sitting room. Strike nodded, putting the book he had been reading aside.

“We’re going with the Strike method. And if that doesn’t work then...” he sighed and crutched “it just kills me to see her like this. Today, crying on my arms begging me to find a way for her to sleep. Begging. She was... I’ve never seen anyone like that, and coming from me, that’s meaningful.” He said hoarsely. Ilsa shook her head. There was a moan from the dark sofa and they saw the dark figure of Robin sit up, rubbing her eyes “Want me to keep reading babe?”

“No, ‘s fine...” Robin dragged her feet towards the table, where a lamp illuminated them, and sat on Strike’s lap, stealing his water.

“Finally slept well?” Lucy asked, putting Robin’s rebel locks of hair behind her ear.

“Finally” Robin smiled snuggling into Strike.

“For real?” Strike looked at her, his arms around her. Robin nodded sincerely.

“I think your voice got into my dreams” she said “I was dreaming with the book. Your voice just... soothed.”

“So I just have to read all through the night. Easy!” Strike laughed kissing her forehead happily. Robin chuckled.

“What are movies and audio books for, silly?” Robin kissed him on the lips “so since the girls are here, wedding planning time?”

“Yay!”

“Bollocks...”

 


	41. A conversation with Leda

“I’m good, I’m good” Strike assured. It was two days before the wedding. Time had flown and now they were in London, Robin and him practicing the steps they had learnt at dancing classes. It had been Strike’s idea. Robin was the girl who danced, the girl who liked to dance, the girl who dreamed with a first dance with her knight of shining armour. Strike was a good dancer until he lost his leg, and then he became sloppy, obviously. But he didn’t want to stop her and he thought me may also get his dancing back, so they went to classes and then he’d practice at home. He’d go to the gym every day for months before the wedding, he’ll do his physiotherapy, take vitamins. Anything to be the husband Robin deserved.

“You’re good at this really.” Robin smiled lovingly at him. There was no music, but they didn’t need it. They moved gracefully around the back garden of the house, under the snowfall, and laughed and joked and fooled around and for one second it was almost as if Strike had never lost his leg. The wedding photographer made sure everything was on camera.

Later in the day they were finishing to get things ready for the few days they’d be in St Mawes, when Robin got Strike and the children in the car and drove them without saying where. Strike was curious, but after the first two ‘wait and see’ he decided he might as well obey. Robin stopped by a graveyard covered in snow, parked, and got the children, who now sort of walked, one on each arm.

“What are we doing here?” Strike said looking apprehensively at the entrance.

“You haven’t been here since she died. You think I don’t know, but I’m a PI.” Robin said softly looking at him “We’re leaving today, Corm. When we come back, we’ll be married, and I think it’s time for you to talk with her before. Introduce her to the kids, myself...”

“I can’t talk with her Robin. She’s dead. There’s nothing here.” Strike replied sternly.

“So she’s dead. So?” Robin shrugged “There’s more than skin and bones in a person, the actual person, her energy... science says energy cannot be created nor destroyed, right? So what tells you that energy isn’t there, attached to those remains?” Strike rolled his eyes. It was snowing again and the babies had pink cheeks from the cold “Come on, Corm...” she had the pleading eyes he couldn’t resist “I know you can’t talk with her, but I know somehow... somehow she’ll know. I know you need this.”

Strike sighed and took one of the babies.

“Let’s do this quickly before we get married with pneumonia.”

They reached a grave in the depths of the graveyard and Robin rubbed the snow off it until a name showed clearly: Leda Whittaker.

“We should have that changed” Robin commented “back to Strike...”

“Yeah, we should.” Strike nodded.

“So...” Robin cleared her voice. Strike looked his most awkward “hi, Leda. I’m Robin, remember me?” Strike frowned.

“You...” Strike started.

“Of course” Robin shrugged “when I found out I was pregnant. I wanted to talk things out with her. Look Leda, they’re all big now! We’re sorry we didn’t come sooner, you know how it is... look children, grandma Leda’s there.” Robin pointed to the grave. The kids looked confused.

“Granny Leda?” Daniel asked. Robin smiled at him.

“Yeah” Robin nodded “you’ll understand when you’re bigger babe. Hey Leda, this is Daniel Michael, handsome, uh? Like his father... and she’s Sophie Leda, after you like I told you we’d do. They’re the best really.” Strike looked at her in amazement. He wasn’t sure what he did to have such an incredible soon to be wife. The graveyard was snowy, and cold, and windy... yet he found himself not caring about any of that.

“Yeah uhm...” Strike cleared his throat “so... Robin and I are getting married in a couple days, in St Mawes, you know, the castle. It’s going to be pretty incredible, hear this, Anstis is marrying us. Well, you won’t know who Anstis is...” Strike realised “well after Whittaker... killed you... I went to the army, I was a SIB and Anstis, he was my friend and I saved his life and lost a leg and well, we’ve become good friends and yeah, he’s officiating.”

“I think there’s a lot we’ve got to update her on...” Robin chuckled. Strike smiled at her and nodded.

“Alright then. I kid you not, mum, Lucy got married! Greg’s great, not my type but you’d like him. They’ve got three boys, Arthur, Jake and Harvey. Harvey has a bit of a you vibe, to be honest. But Daniel is the most like you, he likes rock too.” Strike found himself enjoying telling his mother all these things, dreaming that she could listen “And remember Ilsa? Well, she married my friend Nick, from Oxford! They’ve got a little girl, Aria, she’s just a few months older than the twins so they play all the time. Oh, we should tell her about the wedding, right Robin?” Robin nodded, smiling, and looked at the grave.

“I’ve got the most beautiful dress, your son is going to cry I’m telling you.”

“Yeah sure...”

“Seriously! And the twins are our flower kids. Nick and Ilsa are best man and bridesmaid, and Lucy’s the organiser, making sure everything is right as it should be.” Robin explained.

“You’d like Robin’s family, they’re the kind farmer type, even though they aren’t farmers at all” Robin laughed “her parents, they’re super nice. And her brothers are kind of funny, great dudes. So I’ll be having a ton of sibs now, but the good ones mum, the ones that call on my birthday.” Strike explained.

“They adore Corm so much, my whole family does. They never liked my ex so much, but to be fair I didn’t either.” Robin leaned against him.

They stood there talking for a long while, the twins giving her some flowers they had bought at a store right by the graveyard, and then they got back in the car. Strike rubbed his eyes as they sat and Robin looked at him reaching over the console to squeeze his hand.

“I hadn’t realised she wouldn’t be there.” Strike grumbled.

“She will be” Robin assured “just not in the way we’d want to. But she wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“I’ve got to find a way for them to recognise he killed her, Robin. Somehow.”

“We’ll find it. Together, okay?” Strike nodded and leaned to kiss her.

“Together.”

Once they reached St Mawes, they found everyone was already so busy with their wedding. The house was all clean and decorated with flowers, laces, and all ready for the big day. Ted and Joan had taken it all upon themselves to organise everything with the budget Strike gave them, but the Ellacotts were there a week early to bond with them and help them with everything, so at that point the two families behaved like lifelong best friends. That night it was the rehearsal dinner, held at a restaurant in the city that gave them a whole floor. Strike and Robin had worked their butts off extra much since their engagement to pay everything. They had invited Richard, Helen and their three Anstis children; the Ellacotts, Lucy, Greg and their boys; Nick, Ilsa and Aria; Matthew and Diana -for reasons Strike didn’t quite understand yet-; Ginny and her husband Richard; Shanker -who was forced to look up to the occasion- and his new girlfriend Lori; Alexander “Al” Rokeby (the only Rokeby Strike considered even telling he was getting married) with his girlfriend Mary; and Robin’s best friends Claire and Fred with their son Alfred. There were also some more members of Robin’s family, and some friends Strike and Lucy had in St Mawes, but nothing more.

“It means a lot to me that you’re putting so much effort in befriending Matthew so we can be close friends” Robin whispered by Strike’s ear as they had dinner, the twins asleep already in their carriages.

“I mean is not the funniest experience of my life” Strike replied “but I know he means a lot for you and I don’t want you to lose him.” Robin smiled sweetly at him “That said, if he says anything stupid or fucks up, I’ll break his nose.”

“I hope so.” Robin chuckled. She then softly hit her wine cup with a fork to call the table’s attention, as it was filled with talking and laughter “Sorry, Corm and I just wanted to quickly say something...”

“Robin represents us, you know I’m shitty for words and the vows have been challenge enough.” Strike joked making them laugh. Worst was he was being honest. All their closest friends and family looked elegant and happy and Matthew even had gifted them tickets for one of Robin’s favourite theatre plays in London, which was appreciated.

“Right” Robin chuckled “well we just wanted to thank you all for helping so, so much while we had to work in London a bit longer. We have no idea how you’ve managed to set everything up so perfectly, including the things at the castle and the nannies for the children and all, and also thank you to the children for your enormous patience, we know this must be so boring for you. And thanks to our families for all the support and dedication over months, our groomsmen and bridesmaids who so devotedly accompanied us to get our garments ready between many, many other things, Shanker for doing the right thing we know what we’re talking about don’t we” she added raising an eyebrow to Shanker, who simply rose his cup to her “Matthew for being an outstanding ex-husband and caring for my happiness helping where possible, and last but not least important, Richard Anstis for offering to officiate our wedding.” Robin smiled at him, who smiled back with a nod “We feel so lucky to have such a supportive gang of friends and family who show up when we need them the most and who care for us this much. Cheers to you.”

“Cheers!”

During deserts, Michael and Linda borrowed Strike for a moment. Strike had been expecting the moment in which one of the Ellacott men gave him the talk, so he wasn’t exactly surprised nor nervous as the three went downstairs to talk privately.

“Excuse us for interrupting your desert, Corm” Linda said kindly resting a hand on his arm.

“Nonsense” Strike smiled sincerely at her. He was very fond of Linda, who treated him like a grandma or a mother.

“We just wanted to thank you” Michael said. Strike now was surprised.

“Thank me? I’ve done nothing...”

“You make our Robin happier than we’ve ever seen her be with Matthew” Linda explained “you’re a terrific dad. You take care of them like no one else could. I’m sure as a father yourself, you understand how much it means to us.”

Strike had never thought of the parallelism that supposed getting married with his children there, knowing that there was a possibility he would, one day, be giving this same chat -or a more threatening one- to Sophie’s husband or wife, and walking her to the aisle just like Michael would do with Robin, and he found himself having a strong feeling of vertigo at the thought. He gulped and nodded.

“Personally I think you two have a good pair to let me marry her, I’m still trying to figure out how I’m going to keep Sophie away from men forever.” Michael and Linda laughed.

“It gets easier the second time around” Michael commented “well, I guess it’s always this easy when you know the man is an actual man, and one who truly deserves our girls.” Strike looked at him with admiration.

“Thanks, Michael. It truly means a lot to me.” Strike said honestly.

“We wanted to welcome you to our family” Linda added looking at Strike sweetly, with her Robin like eyes “and tell you that, even though we understand we aren’t your parents... it’s an honour to call you a son-in-law, Corm. And we hope you know we’re here for you always, as we’d be for any of our children. I can’t nor want to substitute Leda but it’ll be my honour to try and care for you like a mother for her.”

“And if anything fails between you and Robin too, alright?” Michael commented “If you ever need us, come to us, no matter what. You’re our grandchildren’s father, and we’ll always care for you no matter what happens between you and Robin. Well, as long as you don’t fuck her up.” Strike couldn’t help but feel a knot in his throat and he breathed out.

“Christ... I don’t even know what to say. This is... you guys are incredible. I’m very glad to call you family, I hope you know. Thank you for all of this... it’s... well, it’s more than I ever dreamed in my most optimistic dreams.” Strike chuckled at them, and hugged Linda “My mother would’ve loved you, Linda.” He pulled apart to look at Michael “And Michael, if I ever fuck this up, you’ll do me a favour if you kill me.”

 


	42. Walk down the aisle

The night before the wedding, Strike and Robin refused to sleep apart. It was comforting the morning of their wedding to wake up entangled with each other, their babies in the middle, knowing they’d never have to wake up apart if things went right.

“Come on” Lucy came into their room “come on, you’ve got to have breakfast and start getting ready.” She rushed, opening the curtains. Strike groaned while Robin hid her face away from the sun, in his neck. Strike looked at his sister, who was fully ready with her beautiful navy blue bridesmaid dress with golden touches here and there. All the bridesmaids wore different dresses navy blue or golden -at their choice- and if they wanted they could be one colour with things in the other, like Lucy’s case. Strike didn’t remember having seen his sister that beautiful except when she got married, and he felt himself touched by her dedication, taking his wedding as if it was hers.

“Morning sis” Strike groaned rubbing his face. He felt two pairs of tiny hands holding onto his chest hair, with Robin reaching him squeezing Sophie in the middle.

“Morning” Lucy chuckled looking at them. Her bossy tone quickly transformed in a more affectionate one “hand me the babies, I’ll put them in the cribs so they can sleep a bit longer.”

Strike carefully opened the babies’ hands so they’d free his chest hair and took them to Lucy’s arms. They whined a little but Lucy quickly brought them back to sleep with expert motherly care while walking around Strike’s childhood bedroom, still decorated with, basically, nothing, like he had always had it. You could only tell it was his childhood bedroom during the times he was there because of the kind of books in the shelf, and a couple pictures of Leda, Lucy and himself on the wall. Also, because Joan had lovingly knitted a framed ‘Cormoran’ on the door of his room, just like Lucy had in hers.

“Please, be downstairs in two minutes at the very last, okay? We’re a bit tight on time already because we let you sleep more.” Strike nodded as she left the room, which is when Strike realised she had already moved the cribs while they slept, probably bringing them to her bedroom or somewhere where adults would constantly be walking around and keeping an eye on the kids.

“I love your sister” Robin groaned from Strike’s chest “but I hate her a little right now.”

“Me too” Strike laughed tickling her awake and Robin laughed rolling over.

They were downstairs in a bit longer than two minutes.

A while later, while a team of hired nannies entertained the children, Strike was in his bedroom adjusting his white wing-up-collared shirt and being silently thankful for the months of diet and gym that allowed him to button the most stunning golden waistcoat he had ever seen in his life, a gift Lucy had insisted in making him. At first he had been reticent to use the gold colour and its variations for the wedding, knowing Matthew had used it, but then Robin suggested adding navy blue and reprimanded him for letting an asshole keep him from having their wedding the way they wanted it, so he decided to forget Matthew’s wedding.

“Besides, my waistcoat is prettier.” Strike murmured to himself looking at himself in the mirror they had brought to his bedroom. He looked nicer than he remembered looking in years. The extra weight was gone, showing a healthier appearance, muscle showing in his arms and torso partially due to the time using crutches and needing more upper strength. His beard was now neat, soft, not too long, properly trimmed, and he had shaven his neck for probably, the fifth time in his entire life, letting his neck be soft clear skin. His eyebrows looked more organised, his blue-green eyes, greener and brighter than ever, the bags under them easily ignorable. He had gotten a haircut, but still he frowned at his curly hair “What am I going to do with you, uh?”

As if on cue, the door opened and Nick entered with a bag of things. He was already wearing his navy cravat, waistcoat and morning dress suit, like most men were, a navy blue flower in his lapel. As a best man, his cravat was navy blue but his waistcoat was silver, his morning dress suit black as Strike’s, both of their pants dark gray.

“Cavalry came!” Nick grinned “You look really nice except for...”

“...my hair.” Strike finished. Nick nodded and motioned for him to sit on the bed.

“Don’t worry buddy, Arthur has the same problem.” Nick pulled out of his bag a hair brush and hair gel “This gel is awesome bro, makes your hair all soft aside from keeping things in order.” When Nick was over, Strike’s hair was perfectly brushed to the side, his curls looking neat and pretty, but not too compact. Strike felt like stroking his own hair, but stopped himself before he made a mess.

“Thanks mate” Strike grinned.

“Now let’s put your cravat on, these damn things...” Strike let Nick throw the cravat around his neck and adjust it, also helping him put his morning dress suit on and checking it twice to make sure it was neat.

“Thanks. Have you seen her yet?” Strike asked in a mixture between excitement and nervousness.

“Yes, she looks...” Nick sighed speechless “a princess, man. And the kids are very cute. Daniel has his mini suit on, and he’s not hating it, the idea of using a navy blue scarf for him instead of the cravat was good though. His flower hasn’t touched yet and he’s not playing with his suit’s handkerchief yet, which I consider an achievement. And Sophie’s to die for, with her little white long sleeved dress with that golden thing it’s got around her waist and the little blue lace in her hair, and the little boots. You found her such a cute coat, by the way.”

“My biggest worry is still having stalactites for children at the end of the day” Strike sighed. Their suits were specially warm, specially prepared, and they had their thermal underwear t-shirts, and yet he figured he’d be cold, he didn’t even want to imagine the kids.

“Don’t worry, we got blankets for them and all, they’ll be fine. Plus, the castle’s warm enough.” Nick said calmly, handing Strike his own golden handkerchief “Let’s get going, shall we? Bride’s the only one allowed to be late.” He winked at him “Oh and piece of advice? Remember to smile. Most people get so nervous when you look at the pictures it looks more like a funeral.”

Nick and Strike hurried downstairs, where they met with Lucy and Strike’s Uncle and Aunt, plus the twins. Everyone else was gone, with the exception of Robin and her father, who were waiting, all ready, in Lucy’s bedroom.

“Aw, look at my princess!” Strike grinned taking Sophie from his aunt and making sure she was warm and cosy. He kissed her soft cheek “Aren’t you the prettiest?”

“I’m a princess!” Sophie yelled happily.

“Yes you are love, my favourite princess.” Strike kissed her again “You look fantastic. And you too, handsome!” he added looking at Daniel, who looked more like a mini Strike than he ever had, since he tended to be more like Sophie. His curls were as neat as Strike’s, his hair somewhat lighter, his green eyes scanned everything with curiosity and his big cheeks were rosy.

“Where’s mummy?” Daniel asked. His mother tended to be his greatest concern, and Strike wondered if subconsciously it had something to do with the fact that she had barely had time with him after he was born, being the only one who wasn’t held immediately after.

“Mummy will be here in a minute love” Lucy caressed his cheek lovingly and looked proudly at her sibling “You’re looking hot, Stick.” Strike chuckled.

“Hopefully the bride will think the same. Where’s Al?”

“At the castle, coordinating things like we said” Ted answered. Strike nodded.

“And Matthew and Shanker haven’t messed anything up yet?” Strike added.

“They’re being good boys, don’t be evil.” Nick laughed “Come on, we need to go.”

There was a huge board by the door of the castle that said ‘Mr Cormoran Strike & Ms Robin Ellacott’s Wedding’ with pretty handwriting and Strike felt butterflies in his stomach as he passed by it, entering the castle. Everywhere he looked there were flowers and ornaments, and finally, they reached a big round room, overcrowded, the light of the sun coming from its many windows, the ocean in the other side. Music sounded and everyone turned to look at him, Aunt Joan’s holding onto his arm as they stood at the end of a very large golden carpet. In the other side, the altar, where Anstis stood elegantly, betrayed only by the huge scar in his face, a big smile looking at him. Next to Anstis were Nick and Lucy, who had speed up in front of Strike to get there first, along with Greg, Al, Fred and Stephen, the groomsmen. The bridesmaids, Lucy, Ilsa (who was more matron of honour, as Robin didn’t have many female friends), Claire, Mary and Emily, stood flawless next to the men, who in that moment, didn’t seem good enough for them, as elegant as they all were. Lucy was already crying.

“Your mother would be so proud” Joan whispered to his ear, and he smiled at her.

“Thanks for being here, Aunty.”

“Always” Joan smiled “ready, my boy?”

“Born ready.” Strike smiled and started walking with her to the altar as everyone stood up to look at him, all happy faces, even Matthew’s. His leg didn’t betray him as he gave firm steps, happy to look nothing like the man he looked only a few months ago, when he had almost been killed. Once in the altar, he kissed Joan’s cheek and Joan went to sit with Ted. Strike stood next to Nick.

Shortly after, the music sounded again and everyone stood up. Strike was determined not to look until Robin reached him, like he had seen Prince William do (he had watched that video just to train himself to marry a queen), but Nick turned.

“Holly...” Nick put a hand on his mouth to stop himself from cursing. Strike’s resolve vanished and he turned around.

There, walking towards him, was the most gorgeous bride he had seen in all the day of his life. Robin grinned bigger than he had ever seen her grin, happier than ever, in contrast to her wedding to Matthew, with her hand on Michael’s arm and wearing the most gorgeous long sleeved white dress. Aria, Sophie and Daniel walked in front of them, throwing flowers. Strike’s eyes were watery before he could help it, and he realised he had put both of his hands over his mouth in amazement. He saw the bright of a tear in Robin’s cheek too.

“Daddy!” Sophie and Daniel yelled at unison, making people laugh by forgetting about the flowers they were throwing from little baskets and running to their father. Strike held them looking at Robin, who looked overwhelmed.

“Look kids...” Strike whispered with a hoarse voice “you’re going to want to remember this forever.”

The twins and Aria ran to sit with their grandparents -Aria’s ones were also invited- and Michael shook his hand and kissed his daughter’s cheek before going to sit with Linda and Strike took Robin’s hand, speechless. Robin giggled nervously.

“You look so handsome, I’m so lucky” Robin whispered.

“You’re...” Strike didn’t know what to say “hard to believe. Gorgeous. Perfect.” Robin grinned impossibly bigger.

 


	43. Where they say I do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hella long and hella cheesy chapter for the wedding

They all sat down for the ceremony to begin, the groomsmen and bridesmaids finding seats behind the couple, and the best man and matron of honour in each side. Anstis stood in front of a lectern with a huge smile.

“Good morning ladies and gentleman, and welcome to the ceremony for the marriage of Ms Robin Ellacott and Mr Cormoran Strike.” Anstis started “My name is Richard Anstis and I’ll be officiating this wedding today. That said, I must mention that this place has been duty sanctioned according to law for the celebration of marriages, and if anyone present knows of any legal reason why there two people should not be joined in matrimony, they should speak now or silence forever.” He looked up defiantly, as if he was challenging anyone to dare interrupt the wedding “No? Great!” there were some laughs. Robin took Strike’s hand in her lap and smiled at him, a crown of white flowers decorating her head. He mouthed ‘I love you’ to her “Now the matron of honour will make a reading...” he moved aside and Ilsa stood up and walked to the lectern. She smiled happily looking up.

“I’ll read a quote from Robin’s favourite book” Ilsa cleared her throat “ _When he looked into her eyes, he learned the most important part of the language that all the world spoke — the language that everyone on earth was capable of understanding in their heart. It was love. Something older than humanity, more ancient than the desert. What the boy felt at that moment was that he was in the presence of the only woman in his life, and that, with no need for words, she recognized the same thing. Because when you know the language, it’s easy to understand that someone in the world awaits you, whether it’s in the middle of the desert or in some great city. And when two such people encounter each other, the past and the future become unimportant. There is only that moment, and the incredible certainty that everything under the sun has been written by one hand only. It is the hand that evokes love, and creates a twin soul for every person in the world. Without such love, one’s dreams would have no meaning._ ” Ilsa smiled at them and Robin gulped a sob “I consider your love sets the example. Whatever led to this moment doesn’t matter, what happens tomorrow doesn’t either. You’re meant to be.”

After Ilsa, Anstis went back to his position.

“May the bride and groom please stand...” Anstis said, and the couple obeyed standing up. Strike mentally cursed Anstis, because his leg didn’t like sitting-standing games, but he forgot about that the moment he locked eyes with Robin “Do you, Cormoran Blue Strike, take Robin, to be your lawfully wedded wife, to be loving, faithful and loyal to her, for the rest of your married life together?”

“I do.” Strike smiled at Robin. He felt like the luckiest bastard ever born.

“Do you, Robin Venetia Ellacott, take Cormoran, to be your lawfully wedded husband, to be loving, faithful and loyal to him, for the rest of your married life together?” Robin’s eyes were watery and her face expressed the most pure happiness. Her voice didn’t quiver.

“I do.”

“Now, the best men will do a reading...”

“Hi, I’m Cormoran’s best friend,” Nick said happily as he took Anstis’ place “more than reading, I wanted to share a small memory. It may not be exactly as it happened, but I hope I don’t remember it much differently” there were some giggles “several years ago, when Cormoran was dating someone else and I was engaged, Cormoran took me to buy my suit. While I was trying one out at the store, he asked ‘Nick, how do you know?’ ‘Know what, Corm?’ ‘That she’s the one. How can you be so sure that she’s the one you want to share your entire life with forever, and you’ll never want someone else.’ In that moment, we were interrupted and the question was forgotten. He never asked again. But around and a half ago, as Cormoran and I held his and Robin’s newborn twins in the hospital corridor, entertaining them while a doctor checked on their mother, he suddenly reminded me of that moment, because he’s got a brilliant memory, and he said ‘I know how it feels now’. I asked, ‘really? How is it?’. He looked at me, dead serious, and said, and I wrote it down right after he was out of my sight because I knew it’d come down to this...” Nick looked at his papers “I would have to be brainless not to marry her, don’t you think? She’s the one who created the two biggest loves of our lives during months, the one who’s always there, the one who loves me the most, the one who makes me the most happy. She’s the one I long the most to see every time she leaves my sight, and she’s the one I want to tell every good new first to. She’s the one who accompanies me through all my troubles and struggles, the one to fill my life with light, the one to mean the most for me. She’s the one to hold my heart, to be my best friend, my partner, the mother of my children, the one to make everything worth it at the end of the day. She, simply, is the one, it’s obvious. So of course I’m going to marry her one day.” Nick read, and looked up at Cormoran with watery eyes. Strike smiled at him sniffling a little and Robin didn’t bother to hide a sob, breathing deeply to keep herself together “Congrats, brother. That’s exactly how it feels like.”

Anstis then proceeded with the wedding, after rubbing his eyes with his handkerchief and clearing his throat.

“Before you are joined in matrimony it is my duty to remind you of the solemn and binding character of the vows you’re about to make. Marriage in this country is the union of two people voluntarily entered into for life to the exclusion of all others. Today you will exchange vows” Anstis said calmly “which will unite you as husband and wife. The words must be a formal and public pledge of your love, and a promise of lifelong dedication to each other. The purpose of marriage is that you may always love, care for and support one another through both the difficulties and the joys that life may bring, and that your love will foster a relationship of permanent and continuing commitment.” He explained “I am now going to ask you to make a declaration that you know of no legal reason why you should not marry.”

“I do solemnly declare” Strike said as he had learnt by heart “that I know not of any lawful impediment why I, Cormoran Strike, may not be joined in matrimony to Robin Ellacott.”

“I do solemnly declare” Robin said after clearing her voice “that I know not of any lawful impediment why I, Robin Ellacott, may not be joined in matrimony to Cormoran Strike.” Anstis nodded and continued.

“The giving of a band signifies the promise of love that is everlasting and is public affirmation that the contract between Robin and Cormoran will be honoured.” He affirmed. He made a signal to Nick, who pulled two rings from his pocket, and gave the smallest one to Strike, who took it and stood in front of Robin. He cleared his throat holding her left hand, and smiled warmly at her. Robin chuckled tearfully.

“I give you this ring” Strike said “as a token of our married life together, and I call upon these persons here present to witness that I, Cormoran Blue Strike, do take thee, Robin Venetia Ellacott, to be my lawfully wedded wife. I promise to love you and protect you, to always try to make you laugh and be happy, to accompany you through the ups and downs, to be loyal and faithful, and to always try my best to be the husband you deserve to have, always.” He said putting the golden band on her finger. Her hand seemed prettier than ever between his. Robin breathed deeply taking the remaining ring and holding Cormoran’s big hand lovingly between her own.

“I give you this ring” Robin said trying to keep her voice even “as a token of our married life together, and I call upon these persons here present to witness that I, Robin Venetia Ellacott, do take thee, Cormoran Blue Strike, to be my lawfully wedded husband.” Robin slid the ring and looked straight into Strike’s eyes with emotion “I promise you’ll never be alone, that I’ll always love you, I’ll always look after you, I’ll always be loyal and faithful, I’ll do all it takes to make sure you’re as happy as I know you deserve to be. No matter what rain falls, I won’t stop cherishing your company and your feelings for me, I won’t stop giving you all my best, forever.”

“Robin and Cormoran, you have made the declaration prescribed by law and have made a solemn and binding contract with each other in the presence of your witnesses, friends and family, and on behalf of England” there were some laughs and he chuckled “and myself, I am more than joyful to pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss.”

Strike felt as if his body acted on his own as his hands moved to cup Robin’s cheeks, Robin’s arms surrounding his neck, and their lips sealed their compromise with a sweet kiss as the room roared in applause and joy.

**. . .**

After they had a thousand pictures taken and signed all the paperwork, Strike found himself with Robin having the first quiet minutes just for themselves. He smiled at Robin, leaning to kiss her once more, for the first time as officially husband and wife now that the paperwork was done.

“Are you happy?” he asked her, pulling away. Her blue-gray eyes stared at him brightly.

“The happiest.” Robin kissed him again, as if his lips were her biggest addiction, and he smiled into the kiss “ready to go back to the crowds?”

“With you? Always” Strike took her hand interlacing their fingers and confidently walked with her to the door. They pushed it open together, and quickly protected themselves in case any projectile was dangerous, but it was just nice-smelling flowers. Robin laughed at the enthusiasm and noise their people made and Strike felt himself fall more in love with her as he stared at her.

“Mummy, daddy!” before they could look, they felt their children crashing against their legs like bullets, and scooped them up.

“Let’s go have lunch, baby daddy.” Robin chuckled at him. Strike realised she was wearing the necklace he gave her, and noticed he didn’t remember having seen her without it since he gave it to her years back.

“Anywhere with you, love.”

After the lunch, which included all the toasts, and cutting the cake, firstly tasted by the twins, they gave away the presents to the guests and Robin threw her boutique of golden and blue flowers, that was grabbed by one of their single friends, they all moved to the dance floor. Robin and Strike nervously looked at each other.

“Ladies and gentlemen” one of the organisers said into the microphone “please join me to welcome Mr Strike and Ms Ellacott for their first ever dance as husband and wife.” Strike had suggested Robin not to take his surname. He thought it was firstly, senseless, and secondly, he was proud of who Robin Ellacott was and all the things she had done, and wanted for that name to be the one she was known as. Robin was more than pleased.

Lucy winked at Strike as he took Robin’s hand and led her to the dance floor. Everyone else stood around expectantly and Strike caught Matthew’s glance. He simply smiled at the new husband.

Robin and Strike locked eyes.

“Today’s the most perfect day of my life. After the twins’ birth.” Robin said tearfully looking at Strike as they held each other for the dance.

“Don’t be ridiculous, the twins’ birth was a disaster of a day. Today’s better.” Strike said lightly, making her laugh. He giggled at her and the music started, while they moved elegantly across the dance floor.

 _It's amazing how you can speak right to my heart_  
Without saying a word, you can light up the dark  
Try as I may I can never explain  
What I hear when you don't say a thing  
  
The smile on your face lets me know that you need me  
There's a truth in your eyes saying you'll never leave me  
The touch of your hand says you'll catch me wherever I fall  
You say it best… when you say nothing at all  
  
All day long I can hear people talking out loud  
But when you hold me near, you drown out the crowd  
Try as they may they could never define  
What's been said between your heart and mine  
  
The smile on your face lets me know that you need me  
There's a truth in your eyes saying you'll never leave me  
The touch of your hand says you'll catch me wherever I fall  
You say it best… When you say nothing at all

Strike had almost agreed to dance ‘Magic Works’ when, one day in the office, working a late night with Robin, he heard that music from Robin’s computer. At first he didn’t pay attention, it was normal for Robin to settle some soft music while they worked sometimes, but then he got caught up in the lyrics and looked at Robin, who stared at him, realization drawn across her face. They had smiled to each other and, since they were alone in the office, made love on the floor while listening to that song, without saying a word.

They kept dancing together intimately, a spotlight shinning over them as they moved in the dark, their foreheads pressed together, Robin’s arms around his neck and his around her hips, until they reached the latest rounds of chorus, when Strike pulled apart just enough to hold one of Robin’s hands and they spun across the dance floor elegantly.

… _when you say nothing at all._

Strike threw Robin back, putting an arm on her back to prevent her from falling backwards, and leant, kissing her softly on the lips, as the room applauded.

Among the dancing of the day, there was the father-daughter dance to ‘Beautiful in white’, when Robin and her father danced together and Strike spontaneously joined with Sophie.

The night came and a snowfall started and, while half the people was drunk already and they had had a snow fight, Strike finally found a chair to let himself fall off for a bit. His leg was starting to bother him and he wondered silently how he had done it to stand his leg for so lunch without hurting. Matthew and Robin were dancing together and laughing and Strike found himself mesmerized looking at Robin, happy that she could count on the one best friend she had kept from school. He didn’t realize Diana sitting next to him.

“Tired?” Diana commented casually.

“My leg’s a bit done” Strike shrugged “but it’s alright. I’ve danced more than in my entire life probably.” Diana laughed softly.

“Yeah… my boyfriend got your wife. No problem right?” she asked with genuine concern.

“Not at all” Strike assured with a nod “Robin barely had time to do things right with him when they broke up. It was all hurried and botched job, and I know she wishes she could’ve done things better. Been less angry at him, been less in a hurry to be with me, taken things more softly. She’s been meaning to make things right with him and now I’m glad they’re good again.”

“Oh, she’s lucky you aren’t jealous. Not all men are like that.”

“She doesn’t give me reasons to be jealous.” He shrugged “Once I was with a woman who cheated on me our entire life. And I knew and I figured I deserved it. She denied it. There was no trust. But Robin… I know she would fall dead sooner than being disloyal or dishonest to me. She’s never lied to me and she never will. And she will never hurt me. I know it. If you’re jealous though…”

“Nah…” Diana smiled sweetly at him “You know, when Matthew first came into my consult, he was broken and shattered in pieces. He cried and cried asking what had he done wrong, how did he hurt her so badly. I heard him talk about her for hours and hours, so much I feel like I’ve known her my whole life, and at some point there, he found his answers. He realized a man can’t say he respects his girlfriend if he’s always trying to dictate her life, decide how she should be living it, intervene in her job and friendships, stop her from living the dream she had. And he realized she did some things wrong but that she cared for him and didn’t mean to hurt him, and learnt to forgive and forget. Months later, he was a new man. And when I saw that new man, one who truly respected, one who truly cared, truly did things right… I couldn’t help but wanting him. I know the man he was would be one I could not trust, but this Matthew… he can dance with his ex wife all he wants, I trust him.” Strike chuckled at her and nodded.

“You must be hella good Diana.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter and thanks for the comments and support!
> 
> If you like to, you can follow me in my tumblr https://thetrunkofthenighttraveler.tumblr.com/ where I basically post about Cormoran Strike and its actors, quotes, bits of Harry Potter and a tiny bit of Krashlyn (two USWNT players that are lesbian TOGETHER).
> 
> Hugs to you all!


	44. Luck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone who gives me spoilers on Lethal White will receive a distance hug and special mentions. Love me some spoilers.

Daniel and Sophie cried inconsolably. It was far too late for them to be awake, and it was far too late to try and separate them from their parents. Robin and Strike had been trying to let them go for half an hour, Aunt Joan and Uncle Ted holding the babies as the parents peppered their faces with kisses.

“We’ll see you in one day only” Robin said feeling herself get sad. She hated to see them cry, all red and upset.

“Yeah, just go with Aunt Joan and Uncle Ted tonight, and we’ll be there tomorrow night…” Strike tried to convince them.

“No!” Daniel cried “Mummy!”

“Is there any chance we can take them with us?” Robin gave Strike pleading eyes and he sighed.

“Robin” Strike tried to be firm “we haven’t had a day for ourselves without them in almost two years. We’ve been working like crazy for months to get to this day. We need this day off, just you and me being lazy and making sure we keep the spark alive, without them. It’s just one day, we’ll be joining them for dinner tomorrow, and in September they’re going to kindergarten so they need to learn to be without us and at this rhythm, they’re just going to be all dependant.”

“I know, but it’s so sad…” Robin tried to calm Daniel down.

“They’ve got each other, and they’re just crying this much because they need to sleep. Tomorrow they’ll forget we’re gone, they’ll be playing all day.” Strike rubbed her back softly. It also broke his heart, but he knew this was for their own good, and the best of their marriage. He didn’t want for them to become these old couples who never touch each other anymore and have forgotten the meaning of ‘romance’.

“Okay” Robin sighed “see you tomorrow loves, behave well.” Robin kissed them, Strike following suit, and they went to their car, adorned with flowers and a ‘Just Married’ plaque.

They went to Newquay, walked across the beach under the stars with a bottle of champagne, celebrating. They spent an entire day in their hotel room, asking room service to bring them anything they might need. After lunch in bed, Strike lied in bed, nude with Robin over him lazily kissing his neck while he played with her hair distractingly. The room smelled of sex and ocean and Robin thought it was the most perfect honeymoon. She finally stopped nibbling his neck and leant against his cheek, sighing content.

“You’re such a gentle lover” Robin commented, her voice soft and calming “Matthew was more... selfish. Do you like everything we do in bed?” she asked with curiosity.

“Sure” Strike kissed her forehead “I like everything I do with you.” Robin smiled against his chest.

“Was Charlotte like me in bed?” Robin asked. Strike huffed.

“We shouldn’t be mentioning her. The day’s perfect.”

“Oh, come on, husband...” Robin kissed his chest “how was she? So I can learn what not to try...”

“She was bossy” Strike breathed out “dominant. Selfish. Aggressive. We had sex when she wanted, and it was sex, not sweet making love. She liked to leave mark, scratch, bite, bruise. And it didn’t matter if I felt like it or not, she always convinced me to do whatever because otherwise, tantrum. She was dirty, liked things such as... uh, a bit hardcore sex? And talked dirty a lot.” Robin frowned, but let it be.

“Then I’m glad I’m your wife now.”

“You should always be glad.”

The next day, back with the family, Robin decided to have a girls day out with Ilsa and Lucy, who were staying for a couple days, while Strike and the boys decided to take the kids to some small trip the girls decided to pass from. Robin and the girls were just hanging at a pub with views to the ocean, chatting about anything and everything, when Robin spilled the beans.

“Is it possible that Charlotte raped Corm?” she said nonchalantly. Lucy almost dropped her beer.

“What?” Robin sighed.

“Well I’ve been thinking and...” Robin shrugged awkwardly “He’s told me about how she decided when and how they got intimate, that he didn’t have a say because then she’d make a tantrum. He’s told me she was aggressive and liked to mark him, bite, scratch, make him bleed even, although he told her he didn’t like it. He’s told me she was dominant and controlling and liked... bondage... and I suspect he wasn’t in the nice side of it.” Lucy looked at her as if she had slapped her.

“She did what to my brother? I’m going to kill her...” Ilsa frowned lightly.

“So that’s what was going on” Ilsa commented “Nick and I... we’d sometimes notice he had bruises, or scratches still red and bloody in his arms. He said it was confrontations on the job.” Robin breathed deeply. “Nick told me once that I noticed he had a bleeding lip, that he had told him he fainted a couple times because she liked to asphyxiate her with a pillow during sex... and he had finally complained about it and she slapped him. They broke up after that for a couple days.”

“Asphyxiate?” Robin was scandalized “I mean, okay, some people are into that and that’s perfectly fine... but that’s rape if he never consented to any of that. He always tells me he loves how we make love and not just have sex and how is not angry or out of frustration but sweet and gentle... it never occurred to me that he was unused to that.”

“Fucking bitch” Lucy snapped.

“Good luck getting him to notice then” Ilsa said “I’ve had clients, male, who were rapped and he didn’t even realize until I told them after hearing them. I’ve even had some sue girls for rape, and end up losing and being mocked at because people laugh at the idea that a girl can cause any harm to a boy. Corm could always report it though, is not too late.”

“I don’t think he knows” Lucy grumbled “my brother grew up seeing men mistreat our mother, so he probably figured that he should always please them and do as they say, that it was the right thing to do. You know, trying to avoid white, getting too far in the dark.”

“Now that you mention it” Robin said “he always asks me for verbal consent. Always. Even... well, yesterday. Every single time we’re about to have sex, he asks, and then asks minutes later again, and asks me to tell him if I want to stop. One time I asked to stop because I was pregnant and started feeling nauseous, and he stopped in the second without asking for explanations. But I’ve never asked him... and he always goes with the flow when I start something, what if I forced him...?”

“Robin” Lucy looked at her incredulous “it’s not the same. Charlotte was a bitch. My brother looks at you like if he wanted to undress you every time he looks at you. I doubt you ever caught him not feeling like it.”

“I think” Ilsa commented “you should talk about this with him. Make him see what Charlotte did wasn’t right and that he doesn’t always have to do what you want without thinking of himself. If he wants to sue... I’ll defend him.”

“I don’t want to hurt him reminding him...”

“I don’t think you’ve got an option Rob.” Lucy sighed.

They were back in London the next day. Although Robin had gotten much better since Strike found the way for her to sleep, she still hadn’t gone back to the office, since she tried once three months after Wardle’s death and couldn’t sit for five minutes before she got a panic attack. She then changed therapist and once she had slept okay for a few weeks, the rest of her recovery followed suit. So Strike worked alone, tried to do from home most of the work he could, and Robin stayed home with the children.

“Hullo!” Strike said entering the house, hearing the distinctive noise of twins babbling and laughing that instantly brought a smile to his face. He passed by a big framed picture of Strike and Robin holding one year old twins in a funny, happy family photo, and entered the sitting room, walking straight to the kitchen. Robin had put the stools aside to put the twin’s high chairs and she was sitting on a stool on the other side of the kitchen bar, putting funny faces so they’d open their mouth and she could give them their potato mush.

“There comes the plane... arrr!” Robin put a spoonful inside Daniel’s mouth. “Good job Dan! Hi!” she smiled at Strike as he leaned over the bar to kiss her.

“Is that yummy?” Strike asked the twins, who nodded while reaching for a kiss, that Strike was quick to give them.

“Look daddy!” Daniel yelled holding one of their many little dinosaurs. “Arr!” Strike giggled.

“It does arr? That’s so cool!”

“Some dinos eat mush daddy,” Sophie pointed out. “Some eat sosoges.” Strike chuckled at her. They were yelling daddy and mummy like two days ago and now they were saying full sentences with those sloppy sharp voices that made his stomach flip.

“Sausages,” Robin corrected smiling at her, and looked at Strike. “So how was work?”

“Busy and lonely without you.” Strike smiled at her going into the kitchen so he could hug her from behind and support his chin on her head, feeling needy. Robin laughed.

“How’s that so busy if I’m doing my part of the office job from home?”

“Because I work slower without you,” Strike said doing an appreciative noise at Robin’s scent. Robin chuckled loving the feeling of his body against her back. “I was thinking, maybe we should get a little helper? Someone very experienced and smart so we don’t need to train them, someone who can be a junior detective or something, helping us both with our cases? We’ve got like six more offers of cases every day. We need extra brains and extra hands.”

“Uhm, expanding the business then,” Robin smiled putting another spoonful in Sophie’s mouth. The kitchen smelled of the food that was still cooking for the adults. “You sound like you have someone in mind already.”

“Well, actually,” Strike moved to take a can of Dooms’ Bar from the fridge and opened it, taking a sip. “This morning I received a call from an ex-SIB friend. She used to live in London but her wife had to move to Scotland years ago for a work related business and they went there, but now they just came back so my friend is looking for a job. We went to the Tottenham earlier to catch up and I was commenting how overloaded we are and how we could use a pair of hands, and she was excited about the idea of helping out, I already told her the salary won’t be much at first, most likely, but she didn’t mind. Her wife makes a lot, so they live comfortably. I told her I’d have to consult it with you and call her back.”

“Alright...” Robin felt a bit worried that someone so experienced would be better than she was at their job, but chose to push her worries aside, thinking that at the end of the day, the business had her name on it. “Tell me about her?”

“Her name is Kathleen, aka Kate, Jodie Fulton, I used to be her superior,” Strike commented. “Four years older than you, she was excellent at the SIB. Professional, hard working, but also sweet and kind. Very cultured, her father’s a diplomatic and her mother’s a doctor, she has no siblings so she got all the attention and gets very along with them. She’s one of my best friends, I’ve known her since she entered the SIB when she was like twenty, she’s very loyal, blunt honest, humble, trustworthy...”

“Sounds pretty good.”

“So it’s a yes?”

“Yeah.” Robin nodded.

“She’ll be a terrific asset, you’ll see.” Strike leaned to kiss her again and took his mobile to phone Kate.

That night they decided to leave the twins with their ‘godparents’ and go have dinner at some nice place with Kate and her wife, Grace, so they could meet Robin. Grace was a forensics expert who despite earning loads, kept a low profile and humble ways, although she dressed particularly nicely. Grace looked like a Norwegian goddess, as tall as Robin, light skin, shinning blonde, wavy hair, long to her breasts, sparkling light blue eyes, a serious but sympathetic expression and good manners. Kate was a bit shorter than Grace, her skin brown, looked as if one of her parents was offspring from African, but not African itself, and the other was like Grace, because she didn’t have the characteristic big lips of African people. Her hair was long, black and curly, her eyes, dark brown and deep, her lips thin, reddish with the makeup, and looked at Strike with admiration, respect, and fraternity. They were loving and affectionate towards each other, speaking with slight Scottish accents from the years living in Edinburg, and treating every member of the restaurant’s service with the same respect as if they were their parents or something. They dressed elegantly and sophisticatedly but lacked the vibe of superiority Robin was used to rich people having.

“There they are.” Strike said, his hand intertwined with Robin’s as they walked to the depths of the restaurant, where the views of the Thames were better. It reminded Robin of the nice place where the girls had taken her for dinner at her hen do before going for a drunk karaoke night. The married women sat one in front of the other, laughing about something and holding hands over the table, but they pulled apart and looked at them with happy smiles, getting up when they were closer.

“Boss!” Kate beamed hugging him. Then she pulled apart and looked at Robin, who stood nervously, impressed by the record she had seen Kate have. “And you must be the gorgeous wife! So nice to finally meet you, old Corm wouldn’t stop talking about you this morning. I’m Kate.” She offered Robin a hand.

“Hi, nice to meet you too. Robin.” Robin shook her hand and then Kate pulled her into a hug “Oh! Good.” Robin giggled at Kate’s affection. Strike and Grace had been hugging in the meantime.

“This is my wife, Robin Ellacott.” Strike pointed to Robin, pulling away from her. Robin was prepared for Grace’s hug this time around.

“Lovely!” Grace smiled at her warmly.

They finally sat together, Robin next to Kate and in front of Strike, who quickly took the menu and started passing pages. Robin wondered if it was a strategy to give the girls space to catch up. Strike had told her he thought they would be fast friends, but Robin wasn’t that sure, since she barely had female friends, tending to dislike that Londoner women only seemed to be interested on make-up, clothes, men and what to buy their children. They didn’t seem to like a woman who’d much rather spend the afternoon doing surveillance on an old woman than going to get her nails done.

“So,” Kate looked sympathetically at Strike. “I’m quite intimidated by you after all Cormoran talks, if I’m honest,” she smiled even with her eyes, and Robin couldn’t help but blush. “A couple years of psychology and you managed your way into the top of the business in close to no time, still found time to have two beautiful little ones and yet still look like a model. No wonder the old man got his eyes on you, if I wasn’t so in love with Gracey...” she joked. Robin chuckled.

“Well, thank you. Although he has great words about you two too, if I’m honest,” Robin commented eyeing her husband, who was more focused in the long menu of beers. “I couldn’t even say no to the idea of you joining us, seems stupid seeing your curriculum. Are you sure you won’t get bored with us?” she joked, feeling more at ease, and Kate laughed.

“If I’m bored I’ll take you for a beer to get entertained. The Tottenham’s still standing, thankfully.” Kate said happily.

“Careful, she’s a lightweight,” Strike intervened chuckling at Robin.

“Hey! Of course I look like a lightweight next to a man who drinks beer like a German.” Robin rolled her eyes, smiling nevertheless, and Kate and Grace laughed.

“Don’t worry Robin, I don’t drink much either. I’m more the one cup of wine and that’s enough kind of person.” Grace joked looking gently at her.

The conversation had moved to trips, Scotland’s beauty and funny life anecdotes before the waiter came to take their order, and quickly Robin found herself laughing all relaxed while they cheered with their cups in hand.

“Gosh, she’s so adorable, I love her already!” Kate hugged Robin tightly and Robin laughed.

“Kate’s always wanted a sister, she was so disappointed I’m an only child too.” Grace commented with a smirk.

“That’s your family’s only flaw love.” Kate laughed.

“Well I don’t have sisters either, three brothers, I’m number two of four,” Robin commented. “Lucy’s pretty much my sister now though.”

“Can’t believe you managed to domesticate the giant.” Grace looked at her with honest admiration.

“Oh, he came domesticated, are you kidding me? Give her a Dooms’ Bar, a hamburger, and some intriguing case to entertain his mind, and he’s all settled.” Robin laughed. Strike chuckled loving to see her happy and relaxed.

“She’s not far from the truth.” Strike admitted as the girls cracked up.

“Ah, can’t wait for tomorrow to come so we can start!” Kate seemed genuinely excited.

“Talking about that,” Strike commented. “you can take Robin’s desk for now since she can’t come to the office, but I’ve been looking for a bigger place, because it’s starting to get so small, the three of us in that tiny room and the outer office full of possible clients or actual clients, all day. It’s a crowded mess.”

“You didn’t tell me we were moving somewhere else...” Robin frowned lightly. “Although it makes sense, but I’m sad to leave it. So many good memories...”

“Well, until the one that has you out of there,” Strike sighed. “But I agree, I’m fond of it too. It’s for the better though, we can afford a nice place now. You’ll be able to come back, we can have one inner office each so our clients can speak privately with us without the other two listening to everything, a proper waiting room with a sofa big enough for everyone. A little decent kitchen maybe.”

“Uhm...” Grace was thoughtful for a moment “It occurs to me... my father owns an an office at an offices’ building with views to Hyde Park, in Knightsbridge Street. He’s got this office currently empty, fifth floor with elevator, the building even has a security service and a desk in the entry with a porter indicating people where the office they’re looking for is. My father has been desperate to rent that office, he has to pay the maintenance without getting an income there. It’s a small building, five floors, two offices in each, minus the ground floor of course, so not too crowdy. He’d make you a special price, he likes you.”

“Even with a special price that sounds too good to be affordable...” Strike sighed. Grace shook her head.

“Not really. My father, he’s a museum owner. He inherited that office and he doesn’t want it for anything, he just keeps it for sentimental value but doesn’t care about the money he makes from it, as long as he doesn’t lose money from maintaining it with no incomings. You’d take a weight off his shoulders, really.” Grace explained “I’m telling you, he doesn’t care how much you pay. It doesn’t cost him much to maintain it either, is just electricity, gas and little more, but obviously if it’s just investing on it and getting nothing from it, as little as he invests, in the long run...”

“ _Annual income twenty pounds, annual expenditure nineteen pounds nineteen and six, result happiness. Annual income twenty pounds, annual expenditure twenty pounds nought and six, result misery_ ,” Strike said. They looked at him for a moment before Kate and Robin said at unison:

“Wilkins Micawber.” Strike nodded.

“Dickens teaches a lot about money,” he shrugged “alright, then sounds good. Can we check it out?”

“Sure, as a matter of fact I have the keys on me right now,” Grace commented “because we just had lunch with him and he asked me to please handle it and call him when there was an offer. We can pass by after dinner, the building opens 24/7 without holidays.”

“What’s the flaw though?” Robin asked. “Your father’s dying to get it rented, it’s a good zone, sounds like a nice office. But no one’s wanted it?”

“Well,” Grace sighed. “The judicial process for you to inherit something is very long, so he just got it finished a couple days ago, got the keys this morning. Didn’t even have time to announce it for rent. I’ll call him right now before he does so, now that you mention it.” Grace took her mobile, getting up to call him outside the noisy environment.

“Hit by luck.” Strike smiled at Robin, who smiled back.

“Finally.”

 


	45. Knightbridge

The office turned out to be incredible. It was in Knightsbridge Street, near the Embassy of Libya, the smell of trees coming into the office through the windows, the views of Hyde Park, excellent. The only but was the distance from their house in Hackney, but living in London, it wasn’t so weird, since it was just so big. The public transport connection was good and the building had plenty of parking space in its underground parking lot, so it was okay. The price, not as high as it should be, and affordable now that they had an extra set of hands, which allowed more acceptance of jobs.

The office was in the corner of the building, which made it well-illuminated with big windows, and the noise from the street or the other offices barely got in. It was in pastel colours, all soft tones, and it didn’t have the usual cold air of offices, like Matthew’s one. Robin noticed instantly that it felt warm and homey, and not just because it had a working heater through the whole place. It was, in general, nice and tastefully built. It barely had furniture, but the little it had came with the place, so they didn’t have to return it. To Robin, it was so perfect she didn’t feel so sad anymore that they were moving out of Denmark Street, even after all she had done to make Denmark’s place look better.

When they entered the place, they saw to their left a wall with two big windows, elegant blinds up to let the light in. In front of them was a door to the corner inner office, that they quickly baptised as Strike’s, because one, it was closer to the entry door so he wouldn’t have to walk much, and two, it was baptised as ‘the best inner office’ and Strike had been the founder of the business, the one to teach Robin, the one without whom none of it would’ve been possible, and they felt like rewarding him with that. Next to Strike’s office, was Robin’s, right in front of the Ginny’s desk, that was next to the entry door of the outer office. Ginny’s desk was corner shaped, so it faced both the space that was between it, Strike’s office, and the entry’s door plus the other wall with the two big windows, (a space where they thought of putting a couple sofas, a lamp and maybe a coffee table with magazines and newspapers underneath to keep their clients entertained if they had to wait, which was often) and Robin’s office.

As one passed Ginny’s corner desk and turned to the right, leaving the doors of both Strike and Robin’s offices to their left, they faced the entry of a tiny bathroom. Next to Robin’s office and with a wall that in the other side, was the bathroom, was Kate’s office. So it wasn’t the hugest place, but it was spacious and way bigger than Denmark’s place. Behind Ginny’s desk there were two walls forming a corner, one had a big printer machine typical of big companies and a huge empty bookshelf with some drawers, that covered an entire wall. The other wall was a small cubicle with a decent fridge, some cupboards, and a counter with a sink and a dishwasher, which left Strike impressed. There was space enough for them to bring their coffee machine and all.

The three inner offices were similar. They were spacious and big enough for them to fit a bookshelf, a filing cabinet, a big desk with a couple chairs for their clients, and all while still being spacious and comfortable. Strike’s one had a window on the wall that looked towards Knightsbridge and Hyde Park, and another on the wall that looked to another street, since it was a corner. Robin’s and Kate’s had instead two windows that looked to Hyde Park. All the inner offices had a small window that looked towards the inside, with blinds and all, so Ginny could look at all of them from her place and, if she saw some client got violent, call the police, and their doors were like the ones they had in Denmark Street. Strike and Robin made sure to settle their desks right by the wall that in the other side had the other’s office, and put a small window in the middle so they could still see each other as they worked. Each door soon had engraved their name, and the main door in the outer office, wooden, simply said:

**PRIVATE DETECTIVES**

_STRIKE, ELLACOTT & FULTON_

They had it all furnished and ready in a week, bringing everything they had in Denmark Street -the desk Ginny had there was donated to Kate- buying some more comfortable chairs, and Kate and Grace donated a couple comfy sofas, a foot lamp and a coffee table for the waiting room aka reception. The first morning they were supposed to go to work, Strike, however, drove Robin to Denmark Street while Ginny and Kate were already in Knightsbridge.

“What are we doing here?” Robin said apprehensively looking at the staircase “You know I can’t be here.”

“We’re going to say goodbye to this place,” Strike took her hand. “Like we started. Together.”

Strike took her upstairs and slowly opened the door of the outer office, gripping Robin’s hand harder as she shut her eyes close, remembering the noise Wardle made entering the office that night. She felt Strike’s lips on her forehead.

“Robin,” he said softly. She opened her eyes, locking with his. “Don’t let him take this away from you. This is the place where we met, where this business started, where we laughed, cried, made love. This is the place that first saw us be together, be partners, the place that saw the twins’ first steps right there,” he pointed to a corner near where the sofa that now was in the dumpster, had been. “This is the place where I fell in love with you. Here, we’d drink our sorrows away and eat take out and know each other, here you’d nurse my hangovers, here we fought and won against so many assholes.” His eyes were watery and his voice hoarse. Robin hadn’t thought he’d think of the place that way, the way she did too. “Remember when we used to sit and feel the twins’ kicking? Right there. We’d sneak kisses all over... and our first cases. You hit Bristow right here...” Robin giggled. “Or the time Daniel puked all over the floor here...” Strike and her laughed softly and Strike looked at Robin with eyes full of love, holding her hands. “My point is... okay, tons of shit happened here. But also so much good, some of my best memories in fact. Well, before you came this was my refuge, in the end... But we came here every day for years to make justice, to have fun, to kick some asses, to do good. And I’d hate it the memory of that night eclipsed everything else. I’d hate it if Wardle got to steal that from you.” Robin felt herself get emotional and hugged him. When she felt she was more calmed down, she breathed deeply and took his hand.

“You’re with me now. Nothing bad is going to happen this time, right?” Robin looked at him with watery eyes full of uncertainty, which reminded Strike of the way Sophie would look at him when she found a spider and cried, and Strike was trying to convince her that they wouldn’t hurt her.

“I won’t let it.” Strike kissed her forehead, and Robin pulled him into the inner office, now completely empty. She could still see the blood on the floor if she focused, but the feeling of Strike’s hand kept her grounded “He’s dead. He can’t hurt us now, okay?” Strike squeezed her hand gently.

“It wasn’t my fault...” Robin murmured.

“Damn right it wasn’t. The worst thing you’ve done here is suck my thingy under the table while Ginny could’ve come in any second.” Strike laughed. Robin hit him playfully but the laughter made the tension go away.

For the next couple hours, they sat crying and laughing, on the floor, remembering all they had lived there. When they felt they were done, they went together to give the keys back to the owner, and then drove the rest of the way to Knightsbridge.

“Welcome!” Ginny smiled at them as they entered. Robin looked around, her hand firmly gripped by Strike, and she felt like a new awesome adventure was right there waiting for them.

As tons of work piled up and they resolved them quickly, the celebratory ‘closed case’ drunken nights at the nearest pub becoming frequent, Strike and Robin decided to take a weekend off to visit Robin’s family in Masham so the children could do some horse riding (never alone and never in the bigger horses) which they loved. Robin finally felt brave enough to push on the topic that she had been dreading for weeks as Strike and she had a romantic walk across the snowed countryside one night after putting the twins to sleep. Robin squeezed Strike’s hand gently and looked lovingly at him.

“Love, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something...”

“We’re not putting the twins in a religious kindergarten.” Strike hurried. Robin laughed shaking her head as they walked.

“Of course not, you, giant arse. No, I wanted to talk about Charlotte actually...”

“What about her?” Strike said with a huff. Robin led him to a bench, thinking that maybe the lack of pain from his leg would help with the conversation.

“Listen...” Robin gulped. “I know this is a hard topic, so I’m just going to say it because I think it’s important for us to talk about these things,” she breathed deeply. “Your consent to my actions towards you is as important to me as my consent is to you, love.” Strike looked at her, confused.

“What does this have to do with Charlotte?” he grumbled.

“I know that Charlotte abused you.” Robin said straightaway. “I know that she insulted you, messed with your feelings, enjoyed making you feel less than her or like her little slave. I’ve talked with you, Lucy, Nick, Ilsa... enough to know the kind of bitch she was with you. I studied psychology, I know psychological and mental abuse when I see it, Corm.” Strike looked at her in a mixture between discomfort and curiosity. “Not to mention, she was physically aggressive with you, not just verbally. I’ve heard about the continuous slapping, yelling, punching, kicking you... about the tons of bruises, the scratching so forcefully blood came out. And I know she abused you sexually too.”

“What?” Robin knew that had been the bomb that became last straw, and Strike looked at her in disbelief and slight anger. “What are you talking about? She didn’t abuse me sexually, Robin. She was my girlfriend and then my fiancée, which means all we did was consented.”

“Does it?” Robin looked at him, incredulous. “If being someone’s partner or fiancée automatically means there’s consent for anything, then tell me why you always ask me for consent every single time either of us initiates anything sexual, even now that we’re married.” Strike went to open his mouth to argue, and then he closed it. She saw realisation come to him for a moment and he looked down.

“That’s different, love...” Strike sighed.

“How so?”

“Because you’re a woman, and I’m a man,” Strike explained. “A man should always be a gentleman to their ladies. A man must be police, gentle and never make a move without consent, even if he’s married to said lady.”

“And same goes for a woman, baby.” Robin took his hands between his own.

“How is it going to be the same, Robin? Men are the big strong assholes that make good women cry. Men are the ones who catcall screaming shameful shit to women as if they owned the world. Men can be disgusting. Women... They can’t do that much damage, most of the time. I mean, except the nut ones, like Liz Tassel...” Robin smiled gently at him. She felt on one side touched at his high consideration of women and conscience of the damage men could do, and in another side, it hurt terribly to see that’s what he had learnt seeing men hurt his mother continuously, someone who in his opinion was deserving of a loving gentleman, that men need to submit to women and be kind with them and women have the right to be shit to men because most of the time they had it coming. Because the ones who hurt his mother deserve the pain.

“Love...” Robin caressed his cheek gently. “Don’t you realise you only see it that way because of the pain you saw men put your mother through as you grew up?” Strike looked at her, slowly understanding her reasoning. “You got into abusive relationships, all women who mistreated you, and you just took it because in your mind, men deserved a broken nose for all they did to your mother. And you were always a sweet gentleman, even with one night stands, because you were taught by your mother that men had to be kind and sweet and polite towards ladies, and not the shit she got. And she was right, of course men have to be all of that, and ask for concert and... all you, do, those are good, perfect things for a true man to do. Perfect gentlemen. But what you didn’t understand growing up was that your mother’s story doesn’t entitle women to be any less towards men. That women must respect men too, and be ladies just as they must be gentlemen. Which is why your mother was always kind and good to them even if they didn’t deserve it.”

“I mean of course it’s not okay for women to mistreat men but... I don’t know...” Strike frowned thoughtful. “I realize that from outside, what Charlotte did can be considered all you say. If I saw it on the news, I’d probably think as you do about her.”

“It’s not always easy to see when one’s abused, love.” Robin smiled gently at him. “Remember how I didn’t recognise Matthew was psychologically abusing me for years, even though I’m the psychologist?”

“But Robin,” Strike replied calmly. “Sorry, but I still don’t see it like the same thing. Matthew was a jerk. My mother’s boyfriends? All jerks. And if I saw a woman hit a man, of course it’d call my attention, but I don’t see what’s so special about Charlotte. So she slapped me, well so did you once, didn’t you?” Robin blushed in embarrassment. She regretted that like nothing else. “I mean, women are more passionate I guess? Sometimes they get more aggressive, that’s just who they are. You should know, you’re a woman.” He smirked at her, elbowing her playfully.

Robin looked at the green lands in front of them for a moment and lied her cheek on his shoulder, Strike’s big arm quick to surround her and hug her close.

“I’m still incredibly sorry about slapping you. I’m ashamed of that, it wasn’t good nor justified,” Robin murmured.

“I know babe. It’s okay.”

“But it’s not, that’s my point Corm!” Robin pulled apart to look at him “It’s not okay for women to hit you, insult you... it’s never justified, just as it isn’t the other way around, and it’s abuse. There’s always another resource than aggressiveness. And when you go get too affectionate with someone without their consent, and even more if they show they don’t want it to happen, that’s rape. It’s just how it is Corm,” Robin tried again. “It doesn’t matter if they’re your girlfriend, your fiancée, your wife, your mother, your sister, your daughter even. That is abuse. The same thing as if it was a man doing it to a woman. Just because it’s heard of less often, doesn’t make it any less real. And what Charlotte did, I don’t know where else would you fit it but in that.”

“I told you, she was just crazy, what she did wasn’t okay, of course not, but from that to abuse or rape... those are big words...”

“Corm,” Robin breathed in, patiently. “If I get angry with you one day and I insult you accidentally, regret it and apologize, and it doesn’t become something habitual, then it’s a woman being passionate and stepping too far. If it becomes habitual, maybe twice a week, like a habit, then it’s abuse. And no amount of abuse your mother suffered makes the one you’ve gotten from people like Charlotte, right or justified.”

Strike sat deep in thought for a few minutes, in silence, with the concentration frown he got when he was resolving cases, and Robin just looked at him, rubbing soothing circles in his back and giving him time.

“If she grabbed my dick,” Strike said then, his voice barely audible. “Even if I said I didn’t feel like it, and she verbally convinced me to do it, and got me an erection and all, and we had sex. Is that rape?” Robin nodded.

“Yeah...”

“How?”

“Well...” Robin breathed deeply, “She made you do something sexual that you didn’t want to do.”

“But I was hard. That means a part of me...”

“Babe you have morning woods every now and then. Even children do, it happens accidentally and sometimes when they need to pee,” Robin smiled at him sweetly. “What I mean is, is not that hard for an erection to happen. And if she stimulated then of course it’d get excited, which doesn’t eliminate the fact that you said no from the start. If she has to convince you, she’s already trying to bend you to her will, which is rape too.” Strike nodded slowly.

“What if,” Strike asked then. “What if she just... sucked it?” Strike asked.

“Same.” Robins said firmly. “It doesn’t even have to be about your penis, if she touched you in any way that you didn’t give consent to, if she made you do anything you didn’t want to do...” Strike nodded in understatement. “And not saying no doesn’t mean yes. When it comes to sex, the only thing that means yes is an actual yes. Like when you ask me always.”

“You never ask me.” Strike said suddenly. “I mean, I’ve never felt we did something I didn’t want, not like with Charlotte, but you’ve never asked me.”

“Because I’ve been blind... I guess that it’s because unfortunately we live in a world where we raise men to ask, and women to know if they don’t give consent is rape, and we forget to teach it the other way around too.” Robin looked sadly at him. “I’ll do from now on though.” Strike breathed out slowly.

“What if,” Strike suggested. “Instead of asking all the time, we just promise to always say it if we don’t want it?” Robin smiled, kissing his cheek.

“Deal.”

 


	46. Maybe a pleasure

After the days in Masham, they went back to London. Kate had gone to do surveillance for a woman that claimed her employees stole things from her store when she left them alone, Robin was out too, trying to figure out if a man’s daughter wasn’t his, and Strike had been in his office thinking about a case, but his mind went back to the conversation Robin had with him about abuse and rape every time he attempted to focus. Finally, he sighed and went to Ginny’s desk with a polite smile.

“How’s it going? Do we have any more appointments today?” he asked, seeing her organising files. She usually didn’t have much work, because most of all the tasks Robin had done as a secretary were now done by the detectives, so they only hired her for five hours daily, and had the whole weekends free and two months of holidays in the summer.

“Pretty well, and no, all is done for the day,” Ginny smiled at him warmly as closed the filing cabinet she had under her desk. “How about you, Cormoran? Quiet day today isn’t it?” Strike nodded looking around the empty office. The day before they had had over twenty people coming, which was rather odd.

“Yeah, all well...” Strike nodded for himself. “Listen, I need to go for a couple hours or so, if the girls come just tell them I’m out working, is that okay?”

“Sure,” Ginny nodded. “What if a possible client comes?”

“Make them an appointment for the next day. Explain them how we tend to work outside more than inside.”

Strike thanked the lift for working as he went downstairs and walked his way out of the posh neighbourhood of Knightsbridge to the station so he could go to Chelsea, where he had researched that Charlotte lived. During his research, he had noticed Charlotte had been divorced from Jago Ross for around a year, and now lived alone in a luxurious apartment. He checked his watch, seeing it was around four in the afternoon, so Charlotte should be home. He felt his nervousness grow as he got to the building door. He hadn’t seen Charlotte in so long. He pushed the button of the intercom and felt his nervousness grow as he heard Charlotte’s voice for the first time in ages.

“Hello?”

“It’s Cormoran.” Strike said simply. The door opened immediately and he let himself in. He took the lift to the third floor and his stomach flipped as he saw Charlotte standing by the doorframe of her house, door open. He was supposed to go there all angry and upset but he found himself... well, he didn’t expect Charlotte to still be capable of charming him so easily.

“Cormoran, hi,” Charlotte looked, as Lucy had said, healthier, better. She was as beautiful as ever and looked to not have aged. Her hair was longer, her makeup lighter, and instead of having a ‘crazy woman’ stare, she looked with genuine affection towards him. Even her voice sounded nicer, warmer. She wore what looked like a comfy sweater, leggings and socks, without shoes on. “This is a very nice surprise...” Strike nodded and walked towards her, unsure what to do.

“Yeah uh...” Strike cleared his voice. “I wasn’t sure about coming here either. Then I decided I had to. I’d like to have a chat with you, if you aren’t busy...”

“Absolutely, come in.” Charlotte moved aside and Strike walked into the apartment. He expected the same air of coldness and indifference that he had gotten from the apartment he and Charlotte used to share, but instead he smelled chicken, probably from lunchtime, and sweet. The apartment was small but luxurious and Charlotte guided him to a small sitting room and Strike sat on a corner of the sofa. “I’ve got Doom’s Bar if you want.” She offered.

“Sure, thanks.” Charlotte left and came shortly after with two empty glasses and a big bottle of beer, that she opened, filling both glasses and sitting with her legs crossed on the other corner of the sofa, taking a sip from her glass as she faced Strike. “I heard you and Jago divorced.”

“I heard you got married,” Charlotte smirked at him and nodded, leaving the glass on the coffee table and putting her elbow on top of the back of the sofa, supporting her cheek on her hand there. “Yeah well... my mother died, a year after you broke up with me. Then Jago convinced me of going to a therapist and I’ve stuck with it, go every month. It’s one of the good ones. Through that I decontaminated, stopped lying, as hard as it is to believe... healed myself up a little, even went on a solo trip around Africa just to... find myself or something.” Strike nodded. He found it all, in fact, hard to believe, but the pictures around the sitting room served Charlotte as a confirmation of her honesty. “When I came back, I had accepted that my marriage to Jago only happened because I wanted to hurt you, and I thought he deserved better. I didn’t love him like that. He took it well, given the circumstances.”

“Wow...” Strike nodded for himself, taking a long sip of his beer.

“I heard,” Charlotte said. “That you almost died, back in August. Saw it on the news. I wanted to go visit you but then I figured, your family wouldn’t want me there, and you probably wouldn’t either. I had been meaning to visit you ever since, but my therapist advised against it... How are you?”

“I’m...” Strike pressed his lips together. “I’m better than I’ve ever been in my whole life, if I’m honest. The recovery from the attack was challenging, but... You’re right, I married, and she made everything way better, easier. Her name’s Robin, you met her once actually.” Charlotte smiled a little and raised her eyebrows, surprised.

“Have I?” Strike nodded.

“I don’t know if you remember her,” Strike said. “She was the redheaded who crossed paths with you when you were leaving my office, the last time you were there. She was a new temp, worked as my secretary for a while.”

“Oh...” Charlotte nodded slowly. “I... yes, I remember her! I almost crashed with her, poor thing looked all scared. That’s why the photos were familiar.”

“Which photos?” Strike asked confused.

“Well you guys are all over the internet and the news every now and then. Look...” She got up, went to the table, that had some magazines and newspapers, and took a magazine, giving it to Strike before going back to her seat. “Around the middle I think...”

Strike passed some pages and saw a title: ‘Jonny Rokeby’s son Detective Strike marries in Cornwall’. The article was vague in info but indicated that Strike seemed to have married ‘long-time business partner and mother of his children, Robin Ellacott’ in Cornwall.

“Hadn’t seen this...” Strike recognized, putting the magazine aside.

“Yeah, I was buying the newspaper this morning and two women were glancing at those, passing pages and commenting... I heard them say something about you and I bought it. I also saw on the news about Whittaker and your children. Congrats.” She chuckled at him and he nodded with a small smile. “Your family is great, right? I saw Lucy, she looked great...”

“She told me,” Strike said. “Yeah... Robin... she’s honestly a dream of a woman. She’s my partner now, at work. Business’ going so well we moved the office to Knightsbridge.”

“Oh really?” Charlotte’s jaw dropped and she grinned at him. “That’s excellent news!”

“Yeah...” Strike shrugged. “Our twins like this place better. More space to play.” Charlotte chuckled.

“It’s so hard to imagine you as a father, you never wanted that. But your eyes shine when you mention them, it’s sweet. Bet you’re a terrific dad, you were always a good caretaker.”

“They make me a better man, Charlotte. I don’t know a better feeling than waking up to a baby gripping the hair of my chest and drooling over my shoulder,” Strike smiled absentmindedly. “Seeing them grow, crawl, walk, talk... discovering the world. Getting up in the morning, going to their bedroom, and seeing them both standing inside their cribs, looking for us and smiling right away when they see us, with their big cheeks and dimples, reaching their tiny arms towards us. It cleanses the soul, really.”

“Oh, shut up before you make me want to be a mother.” Charlotte joked, laughing softly. “It sounds really sweet and nice.”

“Charlotte, I came here because...” Strike sighed. “I didn’t want to have children until Robin told me she was expecting and I was the father. It took me ages to believe it because of your lies, and at first I just thought I might be a terrible dad, but Robin would be an incredible mother and teach me how to do my part. I would’ve hated to have children with you, not because of dislike towards them, but because you... you’re absolutely nuts. Bat shit crazy. You fucked up my life.” He found himself being way more honest than he expected. Charlotte looked at him, serious and focused “I didn’t to bring children into the awful world I knew, for a childhood like mine or worse. I don’t hate children. Never did. And if it hadn’t been because I knew Robin and I could raise good kids, that they’d truly be happy, I would’ve asked her to abort.” Charlotte nodded slowly.

“I caused a ton of damage, I know. Lucy hated me pretty much.” Charlotte murmured.

“Damn yes. And it has taken me until not so long ago to, through my wife, psychology student who’s now finishing her degree at distance, online, see that you were a manipulative bitch who psychologically and psychically abused me, and raped me because Charlotte, I said it before and I’ll say it again, I don’t like feeling powerless and even less during sex, I lack half a leg, for God’s sakes!” Strike huffed, trying to breathe into not getting angry. “I hate bondage, I hate pillows on my face during sex, I hate being touched when I said no. And you always did the fuck you wanted with me and my body nevertheless, whenever you felt like it. Of course I spent too much time at the office, I didn’t feel like going home to be nobody, just a toy for you to kick and play with. Breaking up with you was the best decision of my life.”

There was a long silence in which Charlotte looked down, thoughtful. Strike wondered if she’d give him her famous crocodile tears, if she’ll explode in anger towards him like usual, or what. But none of that happened. Strike found himself no longer being able to predict her reactions.

“I’m...” Charlotte looked at him. “I’m so utterly sorry, Cormoran. You’re right... you’re totally right. The things I did to you are despicable, shameful, terrible. And I know it will be hard to believe but, in my own twisted way... I loved you, you know? I didn’t love you like Robin, alright,” she added seeing Strike’s look of disbelief. “I was just so scared of being alone. And I loved that you stuck with me, that you saw good things in me somehow. I loved your company. I guess that I hurt you because... I don’t know. My therapist says I was who I was because of the environment in which I was raised. That I’m narcissistic. Which is not excuse because you also had it rough and turned out alright, I’m not trying to justify or excuse... just to make some sense out of the mess, you know?” Strike sighed, rubbing his curls with a big hand. “I loved who you were. There wasn’t something about you, aside from the smoking or the long hours at work, that I disliked. But I didn’t know how to handle relationships, nor my emotions, or feelings, healthily. So I hurt. And I hurt everyone around me. And I’m deeply sorry, to you the most. Your wife is a very intelligent woman, and I’m glad she takes care of you the way I wish I would’ve done.”

“You realise is super hard to believe you, right?” Strike said.

“I know. But you can call my therapist if you want.” Charlotte offered. “Look... I’m glad you’re happy now, you deserve it. You were always a gentleman towards me, a terrific man, you’ve earned heaven. But I really am sorry. I really would like to make it up to you anyway I can so, if you ever need anything, or just want to sit and relax a bit watching TV... I’m here okay?” Strike nodded, not knowing if believing her.

“Lucy said you had a new job.” He said suddenly. Charlotte nodded.

“I’m an Elementary School Art teacher.” Charlotte said. Strike’s jaw dropped, looking at her as if she had slapped him.

“Yeah, sure...” Charlotte laughed.

“It’s true, look!” Charlotte opened a drawer and showed Strike a class photo, in which she, true enough, stood as the teacher. “They’re pretty incredible...”

“You, a teacher? Since when? I thought you enjoyed fame and all that...”

“When was the last time you show me in a magazine?” Strike realized it had been years. Charlotte smiled at his incredulity.

“I was helping a friend’s child do their homework, realised I really liked it. Did the degree online.” She explained happily “This is my first year, but I think my students adore me. And I’ve been dating a High School History teacher for a couple months, so I’m pretty much all in the educational vibe.” Strike smiled softly at her and nodded.

“Is he a good man?” Charlotte nodded slowly.

“He’s excellent. Very smart, you know I like intelligent man. Jago wasn’t, though.” Charlotte commented with a soft laugh “He should actually be here soon, he went grocery shopping. We sort of live together, well, not officially but you know...” Strike nodded and then his mobile rang.

“Excuse me, it’s Robin...” he took the call, getting up to the kitchen, where a couple plates rested in the sink “Hi love... yeah, all good I’m in Chelsea. I’ll tell you later... sounds great, I’ll be there, thanks. Love you, see you in a bit.” Strike hung up and went back to Charlotte, who was reading the back of the bottle of Dooms’ Day. Strike remembered she liked reading bottle stickers, it was kind of an obsession “I should be going, my wife’s out with some friends and they’re waiting for me. Seems like nanny gets extra tip today.” He added with a chuckle. Charlotte stood up and smiled at him.

“It’s been really nice to see you, Corm... I hope one day I can apologize to Ilsa, Lucy and Nick too. I’ve been awful to them too.” Strike suddenly got an idea.

“You mean that?”

“Yeah, of course.” Charlotte nodded. Strike nodded. He was crazy. He wasn’t about to suggest...

“Fancy some liquor?”

Half an hour later, Strike and Charlotte, having left Charlotte’s boyfriend Brian at the flat, made their way into The Tottenham pub. The bartender, who knew Strike pretty well already, took him to a table upstairs in the dining floor. There sat Robin, Lucy, Ilsa, Matthew and Kate and Grace, celebrating Kate’s first month at the office and the first month at the new office sitting around two tables that had been put together. It was already dark outside. The friends paled when they saw Charlotte.

“No way...” Lucy whispered.

“Bugger...” Robin didn’t know where to hide. Charlotte looked concerned and a bit uncomfortable, which Strike found appealing. Strike took another chair for Charlotte.

“Hi love,” Strike kissed shocked Robin and then kissed Lucy on the cheek. “Everyone, this an art teacher in Elementary, incredible isn’t it?” he said nonchalantly sitting down “Oh, this is Robin and I’m sure you remember Kate and Grace...” Kate and Charlotte had met in the best times of Charlotte and Strike’s courtship, and got very along with Charlotte, since she never knew what had gone down. Therefore, Grace and Kate hugged her enthusiastically. Robin stood awkwardly and offered her hand to Charlotte, who smiled kindly at her and shook hers.

“This is my ex-husband Matthew...” Robin said “This is Charlotte, Cormoran’s ex-fiancée.”

“Oh, so awkward reunion time?” Matthew laughed softly, trying to break the tension, and shook Charlotte’s hand. “I’m the lying asshole.”

“I’m the narcissistic crazy bitch.” Charlotte smiled at him. She felt a bit more comfortable seeing that maybe Strike was just trying to have what Robin had with her ex. Robin wondered, on the opposite side, if Strike was having a vendetta for Matthew’s friendship.

“I’m sorry,” Lucy said as they all sat down. “But what is this bitch doing here?” she glared at Strike. Kate and Grace looked confused.

“Bitch? But she’s a sweetie!” Kate pinched Charlotte’s cheek affectionately.

“I’m not actually. Or haven’t been...” Charlotte explained. She cleared her throat, “I was a major bitch towards Strike for fifteen years, we just hid it well in public. Well, I guess in the beginning it may not have been so bad, wasn’t it, in Oxford?” she looked at Strike for reaffirmation.

“It was okay. When I came home from losing my leg though...”

“Oh... yeah that was the last time I saw you.” Kate looked at Charlotte with a light frown. “You were such a sweetie in the hospital...”

“Yeah well,” Charlotte sighed. “My therapist defines me as a narcissistic, manipulative liar. Well, that was the definition when we started, it’s been long since that. My therapist says I’m better now. I no longer lie, although I realize that must be pretty hard to believe for those who’ve known that version of me.”

“I’m going to get a big beer, want something Charlotte?” Strike declared getting up. Robin was tempted to go after him and kill him, but chose to stay instead and get to know the woman she had heard so much about.

“Liquor, please.” Charlotte smiled kindly at him handing him a few pounds and he nodded going back to the bar downstairs.

“So that’s why the engagement broke, boss kept it quiet.” Kate nodded for herself. Charlotte nodded.

“He got brave enough to finally leave me. Then I married someone I didn’t know to see if that way I pissed him off enough to beg for my bones, asshole me...” Charlotte sighed, “Got a therapist, started getting better, left my husband a year ago because I knew he deserved someone who loved him for real. I was just hooked on Cormoran for a while. Then... decided to go back to Uni online, get a degree and become a teacher. I’ve got another boyfriend now, Brian, he’s a history teacher, Cormoran just met him but we figured it was better to leave him out of the potential storm this could be.”

“Let me get this straight,” Robin intervened. “Is this my husband’s idea? While sober?”

“Yeah,” Charlotte nodded. “He came to see me today in Chelsea, I wasn’t expecting him. I guess he investigated where I live now. Then you called and he was about to go after that when I told him how much I’d like to apologize to everyone and he asked me if I meant it, I said yes and he was like, ‘if this is for real, come with me and do things damn right for once’. So here I am.”

Robin nodded slowly. Matthew looked at her momentarily, he had heard enough about Charlotte from Robin when they were still together to know it was going to be awkward. Ilsa and Lucy seemed to be trying not to commit a murder and Kate and Grace looked between confused and curious.

“Alright...” Lucy took a long sip of her drink and left the glass on the table a little too roughly, glaring at Charlotte. “I don’t know how you have the ovaries to come here, I was fine with seeing you briefly that time but this? You fucked my brother up! No, let me tell you this,” she seemed to be about to explode and Robin had seen what happened when Lucy kept something quiet for long enough to fear it, but luckily Strike came back with his beer, sitting in front of Robin, between Charlotte and Matthew. “You took that incredible man, and abused him in all the ways a person can be abused, and you fucking lied to us saying you were fucking pregnant, you know how much you broke his heart, you crazy bitch?! As if we didn’t have enough! He didn’t go through hell to then have you!”

“Luce sweetie...” Strike said calmly. He knew it wouldn’t be easy but he also knew even if he never saw Charlotte again, this was necessary for themselves. That stories needed to be treated cautiously and relationships, healed a bit. “It’s okay, I yelled at her already...”

“You’re damn nuts, I don’t know how you came up with this idea...”

“Actually” Charlotte intervened. “Lucy’s got a right to be pissed. Well, all your people has.” She said to Strike, calmly. She nodded towards Lucy, her face showing actual regret. “I’m very sorry for all I did, Lucy, Ilsa... I know I’ve been a bitch and I know you’ve got boxes of reasons to want to kill me because if someone had done what I done to someone I cared for as much as you care for Cormoran, I would’ve done the same thing. I just want to say sorry, for real. I’m not expecting anything, Cormoran and I already talked and we aren’t even certain that we’ll get to be friends again, but on our way here we agreed that everyone needs some closure. That we can’t go back and avoid all the shit that happened, but we can set off from here and try to be better. I despise who I was, and I for sure would like to be better.”

“God...” Ilsa sighed drinking her beer. “How do we even believe you?”

“I guess,” Charlotte shrugged. “That you just wait and see. I imagine that was the deal with Matthew here, if he’s, how was it, the asshole?” she looked at him for confirmation.

“Oh yeah,” Matthew nodded. “But you’re right, one needs to try mend their knots. Here I’ve been friends with Robin since school, it killed me to think I had lost my best friend aside from my fiancée, for being a dick.”

“We both made mistakes...” Robin murmured.

“That’s how all relationships work.” Strike sighed. “Look guys, the reality is that... Charlotte and I were friends for a really good time. And were good together before she lost her mind and I lost my leg and we became angry people who could do no good towards each other. Yeah, I’m not an angel either, even if I wasn’t that big of a madman... but I’d really like to at least, get to have a civil relationship with Charlotte. Get to talk things out like we’ve done today and feel a bit better towards the past. I’m not saying all’s forgiven and forgotten, but I’m saying I’m done sitting and getting angry remembering a past I can’t change, when I could be trying to create better memories with someone who as much as you hate it, meant a lot to me. Someone who was my rock when I lost my mother and my leg, as hard as it is to believe.”

“If my friend’s happy then I’m happy.” Ilsa sentenced. “That said, you fuck up again Charlotte, and I’ll make sure to find a way to put you in a mental hospital forever.” Charlotte gave a nod with a little smile.

“If this whole thing is true,” Grace said. “Then I’m with Ilsa.”

“Me too,” added Kate looking stern.

“Alright...” Lucy grumbled, “But I’ll be watching you.”

“I expect nothing less.” Charlotte said grateful.

“Swear to me this isn’t how you avenge on me fixing things with Matt...” Robin looked at Strike, and there were some giggles at that.

“I swear is not,” Strike smiled lovingly at her. “Although you gave me the idea. First when I saw you at the wedding dancing with Matthew I thought... damn, it would be nice to not have to hate my ex this hard, hate is a venom, the only one it really hurts is oneself, right? And then when we talked about Charlotte the other day... It made me realize it was venom I couldn’t keep to myself forever. When I went to her house today, I was ready to verbally murder her, and I did yell a bit,” Strike shrugged. “But then we were talking and I just thought one has to learn to move on and make amends. So I’d like to at least have a cordial relationship where I don’t have to dread her.” Charlotte chuckled and Robin smiled proudly at him.

“In that case, fine,” Robin then fixed her eyes on Charlotte and leaned over the table towards her. “But let me tell you something, because you don’t know me. I’ve killed a man for him, I’m not even joking, Google Eric Wardle. I’ll inspire myself in a woman we put in prison years ago and do things to you so terrible you’ll beg me to kill you if you fuck up once with him. Understood?” Strike eyed Charlotte, who looked impressed.

“She’s not joking, I’ve seen her fight.” Charlotte nodded.

“Man, I’m glad Cormoran finally got a woman good enough. That’s a deal Robin,” Charlotte chuckled at Robin, who looked satisfied.

By the time they were devouring dinner, the vibe had gotten way softer and lighter, and they were laughing and making jokes about moments of their lives that under other circumstances would’ve made them angry. Then Strike’s mobile rang and when Strike casted aside the idea of going outside to talk, hearing the noise of drunken men watching football downstairs, he decided to stay in the table and took the call.

“Cormoran Strike, who is this?” he asked into the phone. Robin looked at him with curiosity, observing his body language as his eyes widened. “Mr Whittaker, what a surprise...” at the mention of the surname, everyone turned to look at him, shutting up. Strike didn’t realise, too focused on the call. “Are you absolutely sure, Mr Whittaker? Are you sure is his handwriting, are you sure you’re reading it right?” Strike frowned and looked at Robin with an expression she couldn’t decipher. “Alright, lock the house, don’t let anyone near it and don’t leave it away from your sight. I’m on my way right now.” He hung up standing up, nervously.

“What?” Robin inquired. “Do we need to go?”

“No, you stay, I’ll be home late I think,” Strike stood a bit shocked for a moment. “Sir Randolph Whittaker, Jeff’s grandfather... he says he’s found physical evidence that his grandson killed my mother. Wants for me to check it out before the police.”

“What if it’s a trap?” Kate reasoned. “You can’t go there alone...”

“I’ll kill him if he’s lying, Kate,” Strike said firmly. “This is something I need to do alone. I’ll call Anstis on my way there anyway so he can take the evidence or whatever... do you have the car keys Robin?” she pulled the keys from a pocket in her coat and gave them to him with a concerned expression.

“It’s parked in Denmark... Corm, be careful alright? Don’t let the excitement blind you.” Robin said nervously.

“I will, thanks. Sorry to cut this short Charlotte, was actually nice to see you.”

“Yeah, well, go get them tiger.” Charlotte smiled at him and he nodded, rushing away.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I haven't updated in a while any of my stories, but truth is the lack of reviews makes me think no one cares if I update this or not so I figure why lose my time grabbing the laptop and updating when I could be doing other stuff? I truly do enjoy writing and for me, I get the same joy even if I don't publish. The entire fic is written, I already had joy with it, publishing is only to share it if people like it.
> 
> Finally I've decided to put up this chapter, but I've decided I won't publish any other of this story unless I get 5 reviews, and that way I can filter and don't lose time updating stories that don't interest much in favour of updating more often those that do get petitions for more chapters. After all, a writer doesn't publish another book of a saga if the one before is not bought. This will go on until this story ends, if you get to see the end. This is not out of anger or anything, not really, but I think us fanfic writers need to have some pride, you know? I think we work very hard to create aditional content, and if no one cares we're equally happy writing it for ourselves and don't losing time putting it up online only so someone can steal the work (which happens very often) but we get 0 credit.


	47. News!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very short chapter for weird reasons truth be told.

An hour and a half later, Strike called Robin all emotional telling them not to move, that he was almost there. Robin promised him they wouldn’t leave yet, all surprised with his excited tone, and they waited patiently nursing another round on their very alcoholised bodies before Strike came, a look of the most absolute triumph in his face and eyes swollen from having cried. Robin immediately ran to him, and he scooped her up and kissed her passionately without saying a word. When they finally pulled apart, he was trying not to cry again.

“We’ve got him, Robin! We caught the bastard!”

“What are you talking about, you crazy giant?” Robin smiled at him.

“Whittaker!” Strike looked excitedly at the others too. “Whittaker! Randolph was just organising his grandson’s belongings, because his moving to Scotland, and found out some journals. He was checking if they had something important when he saw a written confession point by point that Jeff Whittaker killed my mother. He killed her, and the bastard wrote it all down! He says exactly how,” Robin covered her mouth with her hands and Strike half cried half laughed. “Full confession on paper. There’re a ton of diaries talking about him planning it, thinking how to... Anstis and I got a professional to compare the handwriting to the one of some letters Whittaker sent from prison to friends, and it was a exact match, so we made copies of all the important parts and showed the copies to a judge, one Anstis says is good and has a good fame, and she’s reopened my mother’s death’s investigation. Judge said, there were obvious reasons to believe everything had been done wrong and she didn’t kill herself. We did it Robin! Or rather, he did it himself!”

 

 


	48. Testify

The days that followed were both exciting and unnerving. Strike wasn’t allowed to participate in the further investigation of his mother’s murder. Now, with two confessions -one to Strike and another on paper- the judge was certain Leda Strike hadn’t killed herself. Everyone had told the truth, almost twenty years ago, saying Leda had always refused heroine. Saying all she did was cannabis, and not even often. Shanker had cried on the phone when Strike had shared with him the news, and Strike felt both terrible anxiety and hope building up in his insides. He felt as if he was twenty again at times, although this time he resigned to not seeing Whittaker degenerate in prison for the rest of his miserable life, settling instead with just knowing the world would no longer say Leda killed herself. Strike had even managed to change the name in her grave, so she was Leda Strike and never again Whittaker. He didn’t understand how he hadn’t done it sooner.

What he did not expect was the crowd of journalists by the door of his office building in Knightsbridge, asking for an official statement on the matter from him. This was one he was happy to give.

“My mother, Leda,” Strike said loud and clear. “She never committed suicide, as her eldest children have always known and swore. She was the sweetest person alive and a caring mother who always put her children first and she would’ve never abandoned us voluntarily.” Strike assured. He felt a knot in his throat and gulped it. “Jeff Whittaker always thought she hid some secret fortune that she never had, that was his sole interest in her and that is why he killed her, thinking that her murder would lead to him inheriting, as her husband, all the money. Thankfully now justice will finally be made and each person will be put in their place so my mother will be known as what she is, a victim, a poor mother with an enormous heart who got played with and killed, and Whittaker will be known as what he is, a cold-blooded, despicable murderer. That’s the blunt truth.” Strike gave a nod and entered his office.

“Don’t you think,” Robin asked one night, lying on the sofa in her pyjamas, her feet on Strike’s lap as he sat also in pyjamas, massaging her feet. “That it’s too easy?” Strike, who had been engrossed in an Arsenal’s game Robin wasn’t really paying attention to, just making him company, looked at her with a frown.

“Whittaker never had much of a brain. Not our fault he kept it all in journals.”

“Seems a bit suspicious though, I think,” Robin argued. “That he’d confess so easily, leave it all written for someone to find. Maybe he didn’t do it. Maybe he’s protecting someone.”

“Robin, dear...” Strike sighed. “Just accept that yes, as hard as it is to believe, he was that stupid. He’s got no one to protect. And even if he didn’t kill her - we know she didn’t either. Whittaker killed my brother, he might as well go down for two. And no one else could’ve hurt her. He hurt her several times, he deserves it.” Robin looked at him, thoughtful.

“But what if she did kill herself, Corm?” his head turned to glare at her in disbelief so fast Robin was surprised he hadn’t broken his neck.

“Wha-,” Strike huffed. “I’ll pretend not to have heard that. I’m going to bed.” He turned the TV off, put her feet aside, and headed upstairs. Robin huffed and after a few minutes, followed her husband upstairs, her golden wedding band shinning next to the emerald ring. She found Strike snuggled in his side of the bed, his eyes closed facing his nightstand.

She sighed and let herself under the duvet in her side, moving to face Strike’s back. After a couple minutes of contemplation, Robin pressed her lips softly against the back of Strike’s neck, letting the scent of his skin fill her nostrils and some locks of hair brush against her nose. She loved how despite being almost forty, Strike still had a good mane of hair over his head that hadn’t started to recede or fall. Under her lips, she felt Strike’s skin get chills and heard him hold his breath.

“Corm,” she said softly in the darkness of their bedroom. “I’m not saying she did kill herself. What I’m saying is, we’re private detectives and you taught me we need to keep our professional opinions non-clouded with our personal ones. We need to base ourselves in the evidence we get, and I’m just saying, as a private detective, there are reasons to logically think she killed herself even if you refuse to pay them any attention, I can’t do that too because one of us needs to keep both sides in mind. But,” she added, “as Leda’s daughter-in-law, of course I’m always going to defend she would never do that.”

“You didn’t care about evidence when it came to saving my life, you knew I hadn’t killed anyone, so why is that so important with my mother now?” Strike grumbled.

“It’s not the same, Corm,” Robin argued, “with you, my judgement was clouded but also right, I worked with the police I saw their evidence didn’t sustain itself, you didn’t even have an apartment, you were in your attic when that man was killed and I knew that was true because I knew you.”

“The same way,” Strike rolled to face her, “that I know my mother wouldn’t have done it, because I knew her.” Robin looked at him for a moment and then nodded.

“Okay then,” Robin shrugged. “I’m sorry I upset you, I was just... I was talking as a detective, not as her family. You can bet I’ll do what I can to find out what really happened that day.” Strike nodded slowly.

“That’s all I ask of you Robin.”

“So friends?” Strike smirked a bit and moved to put a big arm over her and bring her close, his lips ghosting over the skin in her neck giving her chills.

“I was hoping for more than friends tonight...” Robin giggled.

“I’m married...” Robin joked, feeling his laughter against her neck.

A few weeks later, the judge requested a private hearing with Leda Strike’s family, friends, and the people that lived around the squad or street where Leda had died and personally knew her. It was an unusual procedure since both Leda and Whittaker were dead, so it was focused as a hearing to close the case of Leda’s without further trials and simply determinate who killed her based on the police evidence and the declarations of witnesses. If the hearing wasn’t successful, however, there would be need for a trial, but both Ilsa, who acted as the Strike’s family lawyer, and Jeff Whittaker’s public defender were hoping it wouldn’t be necessary to get there for the judge to realise there had been a terrible mistake twenty years prior.

As they sat, Robin realised Strike had taken special care of his appearance to look extra intelligent and less physically threatening, which reminded her of the pictures she had seen of the first trial of the death of Leda, when he had just been an elegant Oxford student. He sat between Robin and Lucy with a serene and serious attitude, not looking half as nervous and wanting to run away as his sister.

“Edward Polgrowth.” Ilsa called. Shanker stood up, also having done Strike’s effort to look in his best, and walked to the witness box. Robin admired his resolve and determination to be there despite his past history with law. “Edward, what do you know Ms Strike of?”

“Well,” he breathed deeply, already emotional. It was sweet to see how such a scary looking man could be so sweet when it came to Leda. “When I was a teenager, her son Cormoran’s same age, I lived like a nomad and had no family. Got hurt one day, pretty badly,” he grumbled looking grim, “and she found me on the street, bleedin’. She took me to her squad, and the Strike’s didn’t have much money, never did, ‘bot she offered me all she had. She told Cormoran to find me a mattress to spend the night, she gave me,” his voice trembled with emotion, “all the love and affection of a sweet mother. She didn’t care who I was or the troubles I was in, she just wanted to help.” Shanker rubbed his eyes angrily. “She told me to come anytime, so I visited often, every week a few times. I became good friends with her son, Cormoran. The daughter, Lucy, didn’t live with them no more. We’re still friends to this day, I loved Leda like an own mother, she was a beautiful, sweet, kind-hearted woman. Made some mistakes, but she never-,” his voice trembled again and he breathed deeply, “she didn’t mean wrong.”

“What’s your opinion on Jeff Whittaker?” Ilsa asked.

“Ah,” Shanker looked angry now. “He was a heartless bastard! I saw ‘im, insulting Leda’s children, talkin’ shit of the whole family! Yeah, jerk didn’t give a shit ‘bout them, not even ‘bout the baby they had together. He only cared about money, he was aggressive, psychologically and physically, with the whole family. Leda never let ‘im put a hand on her children if she could help it. But she was blind, all in love. She always defended him too.”

“Mr Polgrowth, when Mr Strike left for Oxford, how were things at that squad?” Shanker was thoughtful for a while.

“I started going more often, ‘cause I said to Corm, I said, don’t worry, I’ll take care of her, you go. And she was tellin’ ‘im to go too, he got lucky and he got offered, all paid. But he ain’t want to leave her alone, so I watched over. And I saw,” he continued, “that asshole Whittaker... he got worse with ‘hem. And Ms Strike tells me, don’t tell Corm, ‘cause he’ll drop out of Oxford and waste his life here! She was so proud of ‘im. But she... she was happy ‘cause she didn’t see Whittaker as bad as we all did, she always saw the best on everyone, so she thought he was good inside. He started doin’ death threats, to me and everyone, and I heard ‘im, behind Ms Strike’s back, talkin’ shit of their baby boy, and Corm and Lucy, and Leda herself, sayin’ he’ll get their money and all, insulting them. He called Ms Strike a... a bitch! And laughed ‘bout her with his mates at the pubs.”

“Was he a good father, would you say?”

“No, no,” Shanker shook his head vehemently. “Ms Strike did it all with the baby. And Corm, when he visited. Whittaker never did a thing to care for the baby.”

“What was Mr Whittaker’s lifestyle and how did you know?”

“Like I said, I promised Corm I’ll keep an eye on ‘im. Followed ‘im around, had friends glued to his. I never heard good of Whittaker. Lazy bastard, all day on the sofa at the squad, using Leda and askin’ her money all the time, never brought any home. Then, he did drugs all the time. Leda fought him, said no drugs in the house, that it was bad for the baby, but he didn’t listen. Then he’d go to the pub, disappear for hours, come back all drunk and aggressive. I confronted ‘im a lot, ‘cause he tried to hurt them. Sometimes he did.” Shanker sighed sadly.

“Did Leda do drugs, Mr Polgrowth, around the time of her death?” Shanker shook his head vehemently.

“Not even weed, nor alcohol!” Shanker assured. “She tells me, she wants the baby to grow in healthy environment, do a better job than she had with Corm and Lucy. She wanted a nice job, good money, a decent house, she told me! She loved to daydream of better things.” He rubbed his eyes again, “but she couldn’t work much, ‘cause she got no one to leave the baby with. So a week before she dies, and I remember ‘cause it was very shocking for me, she says, next time Whittaker leaves for a few days to get drugs, she’d call her brother in St. Mawes, Ted, and she’d go with him. Leave Whittaker, divorce, start over good.” Strike and Lucy fixed their eyes on Shanker and Strike’s fists clenched. Shanker had never spoken a word of that and even Robin was shocked. She realized Ted, next to Lucy’s husband, was crying.

“He’s not lying.” Strike murmured, his eyes watery. “He’s not lying...” Robin assumed, rubbing her own eyes, that Shanker had shut up over the years because he felt guilty enough and didn’t want Strike and Lucy to hurt more. He knew it wasn’t relevant information for the family, and when the first trial had happened, he hadn’t been able to participate, because he was running away from the justice for his drugs.

“Do you think,” Ilsa continued after a deep breath to keep herself calm. “Whittaker knew?”

“Wouldn’t be hard to find out, he got friends everywhere watching her, he didn’t trust her.”

“One last question, Mr Polgrowth... since you knew Ms Strike so well she’d tell you those things and offer you her home, do you think she would’ve killed herself?”

“Never.” Shanker said firmly. “She only talked about going to Cornwall with the baby, those days. She was excited again, happy for real! She was dreamin’ tellin’ me I could go with them if I wanted. That we’d start over, be okay. She said,” he sobbed. “She said we deserved it.”

Next was called Ted, Strike’s spitting image -which made Robin feel strange things imagining how Strike would be when he was in his sixties, Ted’s age- and denied any knowledge of her sister’s intentions, claiming she barely heard of her sister those days and practically raised Lucy himself with his wife, that Leda was too ashamed to call much. He said he and Leda phoned each other weekly, just to check she was okay and Lucy was okay, and that Leda had seemed sick of Whittaker the last few days, but nothing else. Then, Lucy was called, and Robin saw her hands shook and gave her an encouraging teary-eyed smile.

“Ms Lockwood,” Ilsa said gently, noticing her obvious unsettlement, “what family did you have back then aside from Ms Strike?”

“Uh,” Lucy shrugged, “my brother, Cormoran. Well, we have different fathers but we grew up together, I’ve always called him brother. I guess baby Switch, but I never met him and considering he tried to kill Cormoran, I’d rather not consider him family...” Lucy gulped. “My father, Rick Fantoni, he was always in touch and cared for me. My Uncle Ted and my Aunt Joan in St. Mawes, Cornwall.”

“So when you decided to leave your mother’s custody, you could choose between Mr Fantoni and your mother’s family right?” Strike observed Rick Fantoni and his wife sat behind them watching attentively. Mr Fantoni looked concerned about Lucy, which he appreciated.

“Well,” Lucy sighed. “I felt more inclined to go to St. Mawes, since I was, back then, more comfortable with them, I didn’t get a stronger bond with my father until years later. I was born in St. Mawes, like Corm, and I knew the place, had lived there. My Uncle and Aunt had a room for me and were like second parents so, it was an obvious choice.”

“What was happening at the house that made you leave?”

“I was terrified.” Lucy simplified, breathing deeply and rubbing her eyes. “I don’t have quite good memories of them. My brother had a more actively social life than myself, I was more timid, didn’t have as many friends, didn’t like the other girls my age. So I hung out with him mostly and when I didn’t I was home, probably way more hours than he was. We stood my mother’s partners over the years, no one was really that much of a brat and if they were, they wouldn’t be home more than one night, so we never really got to meet them.” Lucy took a moment and then continued. “Then Whittaker came, and he was... a major dickhead. I remember my brother and I hated him instantly. We felt endangered. And my brother, he did boxing, but I felt more... vulnerable. Scared. He of course would stand up for me, don’t let Whittaker close, but he couldn’t keep an eye constantly... and my mother was too innocent and naive for any of our own good. I loved her, I did...” she sniffled. “But ultimately I didn’t feel safe. The house was constantly full of fumes from his drugs, my mother didn’t do them anymore, and she wasn’t even pregnant then. My eyes got irritated from the fumes, and my brother and I had to get out just to breath fresh air and try not to be high, you know? And the jerk of Whittaker, like Edward said, always on the sofa doing nothing but drugging himself, asking for money, laughing at us, messing with us, insulting us, threatening... he enjoyed terrorizing us, I think particularly me because it didn’t have that much effect on my brother, who was as big as him before he was even eighteen. With me? He’d get sexual, he’d walk around my room shirtless making sexual comments towards me until I ran away screaming for my family to come to the rescue. Was gross, had no respect... and I was always tense.” She sniffled again and breathed shakily. “And then I figured it was best for my mother and brother. My mother barely made it to the end of the month, even with the money my father sent and Cormoran’s father didn’t give a shit. Whittaker spent all her money and energy and I could see she was stressed having to look after me and so was Cormoran, always having to chime in, make sure I was okay, fear Whittaker would hurt me or my mother when he wasn’t looking. Being realistic, my mother and I were thin, little things, nothing against Whittaker... my brother was a damn closet, and Whittaker had seen him break noses in the boxing place he was at. So I left and prayed it was truly the best option for everyone. The situation had gotten too rough, too out of hand. I heard of the baby later, when Cormoran called me from Oxford saying Edward said she was pregnant. Then I called her like ‘the fuck you’re doing mom? you can’t raise a child with that bastard’, and she was hurt by it, we argued...”

“Were you in good terms when she died, did you know she wanted to go to Cornwall?”

“We were as in good terms as we could be when I resented her for having been so naive and innocent and having given us such a poor excuse of a childhood,” Lucy sighed, her voice hoarse. “But I always tried to be in good terms with her. Make sure she knew I loved her, and she did the same. She wasn’t mad at me for leaving, she was always happy and cheerful when I told her the things I did in Cornwall, how much better my life was. She said she wished Corm had gone too. But she never mentioned what Edward said about her wanting to leave Whittaker... she did mention she missed St. Mawes, and my Uncle and I, we told her, take the kid and come, but she was indecisive last I heard, which was... a couple days before she was found dead, maybe.”

“Did she talk a lot about the baby?” Ilsa asked. Robin had to remind herself the judge had wanted to have a clear idea of the last weeks of Leda’s life and her personal situation.

“Yeah, well, a bit,” Lucy shrugged. “I told her it was weird for me, because it was odd to think of having a little sibling I didn’t even know. But she liked talking about him, so I let her. She was very happy. I think seeing her children leave first me then my brother for Oxford, started making her regret the way she had done things and wanted to change... and I think she for sure wanted better for the baby, she expressed a desire to do things better. She asked me if I thought he’d like St. Mawes, and I said yeah of course. So I guess in some way, the baby was the last straw to push her to do something. I just always thought she meant, coming for holidays or something, not permanently. But I wish she had come. It would’ve been good for them both, and she’d still be here. She would’ve made a good grandma.” She looked down and Strike saw a clear tear fall down her cheek.

Whittaker’s defence, however, seemed to have been waiting for the opportunity to have a go with Lucy and completely break her.

“After hearing you, Ms Lockwood, I can’t help but think of your mother as a negligent, irresponsible mother, is that right?” Strike was brought back to Lucy, breaking down insulting their mother on his sofa, and almost didn’t want to look. Lucy looked horrified.

“No!” Lucy said vehemently. “Look, she did some stuff wrong, but she loved us tremendously and was always vocal about it, and a very affectionate and encouraging mother, always pushing us to thrive for better.” Strike could tell she was doing a big effort to remember the best of her. “She just chose men wrong and had poor abilities to manage her economy. She also loved travelling and struggled with the idea of staying in one place, but she was always looking for better jobs than she had, always hardworking, always bringing a plate of food home for us, even if it meant she didn’t have one. She cared for us. She just didn’t know how to do things properly sometimes, and since she had to work so much, she didn’t get to keep a close eye on us as much as I’m sure she would’ve wanted. But if she hadn’t been like that, we wouldn’t have had what to eat.”

Strike and Robin looked at each other with the full knowledge that those things still didn’t speak wonders of Leda.

“But as a mother yourself, would you have felt like a good mother if you had been like that?” Lucy was so shocked that she collided with her own attempts of forming a sentence and the defence smiled “No more questions.”

Strike came next and he straightened his suit as he walked to the witness box.

 

 

 


	49. Resolution

“Mr Strike,” Ilsa had, fortunately, recovered her turn. “I understand deciding to go for Oxford was a hard decision because you didn’t want to leave your mother. Why was that?”

“I was sure the moment I wasn’t home Whittaker would kill her and possibly their baby boy.” Strike said simply.

“Why?”

“Because of what S- Edward Polgrowth said,” Strike replied. “Whittaker had a popularity of asshole who was always high and only cared about money to spend in more drugs, plus a negligent father. I had seen him be violent, both verbally and physically with Lucy and my mother several times, and also many other people. Every time someone wronged him, he’d threaten them with killing them. One time I laughed at him as a teenager and he glared at me and did this.” Strike brought a finger to his neck and draw an horizontal line. “That’s what he did every time someone offended him in the slightest. Many times, he’ll verbally threat with killing them. All his friends were dangerous people, he was known in all the neighbourhood, as a dangerous person, could never keep a job because the minute they found his business with drugs and aggression, they’d fire him.”

“Did you ever engage in a fight with him?”

“Several times. The first time I got my nose broken, for example, was because of him.” Strike answered. “He was my mother’s fiancé then.”

“Did your mother ever showed up high?”

“My mother dropped drugs when she was pregnant of me, as far as I’m concerned, with the only exception of weed,” Strike said, “and in my life, I never saw her high. She liked to smoke it with her boyfriends, but it was always a private thing away from her children. I only knew because I’d smell it around later, and I talked about it with her, to which she promised not to do it in front of us. She always kept her promise and when she got pregnant of the baby, she dropped weed too. Like my sister said, her children came first and foremost.”

“What about heroine?”

“Never since way before I was born.” Strike said. “She told me once that heroine was particularly terrible, she said she did it once as a teen and never again, that it was terrible experience. She made me promise I wouldn’t do it either. I must’ve been thirteen then.”

“Did she ever insinuate or mention wanting to die?” Ilsa asked then. Strike shook his head.

“No,” Strike assured, “my mother was a genuinely cheerful person, probably because she was blind to the worst parts of life. She befriended the most scary-looking men even, because everyone fell in love with her from the start, from how sweet she was. Which is why this room is full of so many scary-looking people who would’ve helped her with things any day if she had asked. She loved to hear my sister and I talk about school and our days, and got genuine satisfaction and happiness with our successes in life. She used to buy us some food treat when something particularly good happened, like when I won boxing matches.”

“What about during the time she died? Would you say she was suicidal, depressed?”

“She wasn’t the happiest,” Strike admitted. “But I called her often and she wasn’t suicidal, and she would’ve told me, because she was always open and honest with me. She promised me she’d call if she ever needed anything. I really can’t picture her killing herself, she felt particularly responsible of the baby, and never spoke about who’d care for him if something happened, which led me to believe she was compromised with taking care of him. And when I suggested giving him to my uncle, she was fervent on her wish to raise that child and care for him. She liked to sing rock songs and dance with her children, not play with heroine, a drug she particularly despised. Plus, she hated needles. Whenever she’d need to get shots at the doc or something my sister and I had to distract her and she couldn’t even look.”

Then the defence came and Strike prepared for the rough part, leaning back in his chair and looking fearless.

“Mr Strike... I’ve noticed that isn’t your mother’s maiden name. How come is yours?”

“Protest, I don’t see why it’s relevant.” Ilsa intervened. She was ready to not let him break another one of her witnesses.

“I’m just trying to make a picture of Ms Strike your honour.”

“Continue.” The judge said.

“My mother’s first marriage,” Strike explained. “Was to a mister Strike who appeared in St. Mawes with a fair. She was enamoured by the respectable appearances she had, and kept his surname. Years later, it was how she wanted me to be named, she said, so I had a respectable surname of one of the little men who had truly treated her good. Since she fancied it so much, I respected it and gave the same surname to my children. Mr Strike was conscious she was keeping his surname after the divorce so I don’t think he ever minded.”

“So your mother wasn’t very serious about couples, wasn’t she? Married twice, several children from different partners...”

“And it brought her to her death, are you happy rubbing it on her children?” Strike snapped. The lawyer, taken aback, gulped and looked more serious. He probably had expected the same result than with Lucy, that he had rushed to defend her, revealing too much in the process.

“Mr Strike, if Mr Whittaker was so bad, why didn’t you, with your boxing abilities, keep him away from your mother?”

“Because my mother would’ve had a heart attack if I had put a finger on him, and because I considered myself a better, more decent man, than Whittaker, too much to get myself in serious trouble if I had touched him.”

“Don’t you think she would’ve left him if she wasn’t happy with him? She left many men after all.”

“She would’ve left him if she had seen as clearly as every one of her friends and family that he wasn’t good for her and that he was causing serious damage to her life and was a serious danger. He didn’t even let her see her friends and he got angry when she phoned family. Obviously she suffered abuse and was too in love to see clearly and leave him.” Strike answered simply. The lawyer laughed.

“What kind of crazy woman do you think your mother was, poor woman, loving a man that you say was so terrible?” Strike’s face tightened.

“As a detective who earns most of my income from people that want to see if their partners cheat on them or steal the crap out of them, and refuse to leave them after I prove them right, I can say love blinds a lot and makes one do terrible thing. I don’t see a wedding band on your finger so I understand your lack of comprehension. I was pretty close to marrying a woman who mistreated me, myself.” The lawyer glared at him angrily.

“Do you have any proof that she’d never do heroine?”

“...No.”

“You were in your second year in Oxford when she died, if you are so convinced Mr Whittaker killed her, then why do you think he waited that long to kill her? Could’ve killed her while pregnant the moment you left, when she was weak and easy, and get rid of their son too.” Strike fell silent for one moment and Robin was afraid he didn’t have an answer, Lucy reaching to forcefully grip her hand. But then he recovered his voice.

“I think in the beginning he was surprised I had just left, expected me to come in any moment. Then he got into some trouble with the law for drugs, was being heavily watched. I guess he did it when he thought was a better moment, and he wasn’t so wrong if he’s managed to walk free until his death.”

After Strike, many witnesses were called. Neighbours, old friends of Leda, even Aunt Joan, and they all spoke wonders of Leda Strike, shit of Whittaker, and verbalised their suspicions that he had killed her for sure. The last witness that was called on the stand was Charlotte Campbell. By then, Robin, Strike and their friends and family felt emotionally drained already, after they had been there for over two hours.

“Ms Campbell,” Ilsa started. Charlotte sat in all her glory, fearless and throwing challenging looks to the observant defence lawyer that Strike had never seen in her. She seemed determined to defend Leda too. “You were Cormoran’s girlfriend in Oxford, right?”

“Yes, since we were nineteen, then he left for the army so we broke up, and then he lost his leg and I visited him in the hospital and we got together again. At one point we almost married, but then he ended our relationship four years ago.” Charlotte clarified.

“So you got to meet Leda Strike?” Charlotte nodded “How was she?”

“I met her a few months after we started dating, she came to visit him in Oxford and we were introduced. She was warm, kind, polite, just like her son. She also kept her baby at arms’ reach always, didn’t like to leave him unattended.” Charlotte assured.

“Did she seem troubled to you? Suicidal?” Charlotte shrugged.

“Not really. And I tried to kill myself in the past so I should know how a suicidal person is like. Besides, Cormoran only spoke wonders of her.” She knew that was stretching the truth a lot, but she didn’t care in that moment.

“Did you ever meet Mr Whittaker?” asked the defence lawyer afterwards.

“I saw him briefly at Ms Strike’s funeral, I went with Cormoran. And at the trial.” She shrugged. “I had a bad vibe from him from the start, no one had to tell me he was trouble. He behaved manipulatively and I saw him throw aggressive glances to Cormoran and his sister often.”

“Did he ever threaten you or was aggressive towards you?”

“We never got to talk. Cormoran made sure to keep me far from him, and I didn’t feel like getting anywhere near him either. Whittaker stunk of weed, his breath smelled, and he looked like he could perfectly well kill someone. Besides, I was just his stranded step-son’s girlfriend, we had nothing to talk about.” The lawyer frowned.

“And do you remember him looking sad for his wife, and caring towards his baby?” Strike saw Charlotte was trying hard not to look incredulous.

“Crocodile tears for sure. He might’ve seemed sad if you isolated him, but next to Ms Strike’s children and brother and sister-in-law, you could see he was pretending. It was a big contrast, next to Ted’s expression of having died inside, Joan’s honest tears, and Lucy and Cormoran... there aren’t even words to describe the devastation they had. But I had never seen Cormoran be sentimental in his life in the slightest, and when he received the call he was with me and he got so bad I had to take him to the infirmary because he couldn’t even breathe properly. So Whittaker could’ve done all he wanted, I would’ve still been able to distinguish the acting from a mile long.” Robin, who had never lurked into the obscure details of those sad times, looked at Strike with tears herself and saw him looking down, unwilling to think of the massive panic attack Charlotte was talking about.

They waited outside for deliberation for half an hour and Robin, who was starting to feel a stomach ache, sat tiredly on a bench in the corridor outside the courtroom, seeing Cormoran, one arm around Lucy protective, chatting with Ted and Charlotte. Ted and Joan hadn’t taken well the news of Cormoran’s attempt to befriend Charlotte, but they tried to respect it and be nice.

“Looking pale,” Nick smiled at her tiredly, sitting next to him.

“I think I’m about to have an ulcer from stress,” Robin joked, making him laugh even though he was a gastroenterologist.

“These things are exhausting, isn’t it?” Nick commented casually. Near them, Ilsa chatted with Shanker, both moving to join Cormoran’s conversation with his family. Robin just sighed.

“Truly... I’d rather be in the office with Kate than having to fight assholes to do their damn job right. This should’ve been settled down twenty years ago.” Nick nodded.

“Justice’s a pain in the ass sometimes,” Nick commented, frowning when Robin grunted moving her hands to her abdomen. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, is just... don’t know, I must’ve gotten my period. I’ve been expecting it since yesterday.” Robin sighed. Nick moved an expert hand to feel her stomach softly.

“I don’t feel anything weird.” Nick said.

“Yeah, probably my period. Come on, I think they’re ready...”

Once everyone sat down again, the judge spoke:

“After all we’ve heard, it has been determined that it exists enough evidence and doubt of Mr Whittaker’s credibility, to believe that Ms Leda Strike did, in fact, not kill herself.” Robin smiled at Strike, who looked up in disbelief. “It has also been determined that the late Jeff Whittaker did, in fact, murder her. Therefore, we’d like to issue a public apologize to Leda’s family...”

Robin and Strike stopped listening. They looked at each other, and hugged tightly, both on the verge of tears.

 

 

 


	50. Bump

They decided they’d go then to celebrate altogether to a terrace of a restaurant close by. Shanker had to go, but Charlotte agreed to stay, along with Nick and Ilsa, whose daughter was with Nick’s parents, Lucy and Greg, whose children were with their grandparents, and Ted and Joan.

“Okay, be right back!” Ted said disappearing with a list of their drinks to go to the bar for them.

“Are you alright?” Strike asked looking at Robin, who looked sick. She didn’t remember having seen him that happy since their wedding.

“Yeah, I got my period. Went to the bathroom before, pad was a little bit dirty and it kinda hurts.” Robin replied, pressing her lips against Strike’s cheek. That had been something new for Strike, when Robin and him had gotten engaged, Robin started being open about her cycle. Strike suspected a part of the reason she kept him updated was so they could both keep track and make sure she wouldn’t get pregnant again without them wanting it. Not that they didn’t love the twins, but they weren’t sure they were ready to have another pair while theirs weren’t even two. So Strike simply nodded and put an arm around her back.

“If you’d rather we go home so you can rest, that’s alright...” Strike suggested.

“No, is okay. I get this every month, but not every day justice’s made.” Robin smiled at him. Strike smiled back, and kissed her gently.

“Thank you for being so supportive.”

Before Robin could answer, Ted came back with the drinks and they stood up to for a toast, drinks in hand. When Robin went to stand up, however, she felt unexpectedly dizzy and was thankful she had an arm around Strike’s back and it kept her steady. By then the pain in her lower abdomen had become hard to bear and she plastered a tight smile as Ted said some words she didn’t even pay attention to. She supported her head on Strike’s shoulder and focused on her breathing, starting to see blurry. What was that warm thing she felt sliding down her legs, under her gray pants? She had a tampon on. And a pad. There was no way she was bleeding so much.

“Robin! You’re bleeding!” Charlotte interrupted Ted’s speech. They looked down and Strike paled, seeing red stains all from the flies of her pants to the heels. It was hard to see against the dark gray pants, but from a close enough distance like Charlotte and him were, it was obvious it wasn’t a different pant colour and it had red tones. Robin looked down slowly, but her vision was too cloudy to distinguish more. She left her beer sloppily on the table.

“I don’t... feel very... well...” Robin murmured. Her hands felt clammy and cold.

“Let’s help her lie down.” Ted suggested, moving to help Cormoran. Between the two of them, they lied her down on a few chairs, and she just let them do whatever, not very aware. She closed her eyes breathing deeply, and when she opened them again she saw the blurry face of Strike hovering over her, his big hand on her cheek.

“Robin? Love, hold on in there okay? They called an ambulance, you’ll be all good soon.”

The people from the restaurant used some room dividers to give them some privacy so Nick could take a look, and moved the closest clients to tables more far away. Lucy, Strike and Nick knelt around Robin trying to keep her awake while Nick removed Robin’s heels and blood-stained pants to reveal blood-soaked panties, that were directly thrown away.

“She’s bleeding a lot through the tampon. I need a plastic bag and a towel!” Nick added towards the room divider, and one of the waiters came shortly after with what he asked. Nick threw the used tampon, along with the panties, inside the bag, and blood started flooding more easily out of Robin. Strike looked at her face, panicking.

“C-orm...” Robin mumbled, her lips losing colour as her eyes closed.

“Robin, Robin!” Strike called her “She passed out!”

“It’s okay, I can hear the ambulance...” Nick pressed the towel against Robin’s entrance and looked concernedly at Strike “I’m no ob-gyn mate, but I think she’s having a miscarriage.”

“But she isn’t pregnant, we’re super careful now...” Strike argued.

“I think she is. Or was.” Nick frowned in concern, looking at Robin, passed out on the chairs.

An hour later, they waited in a hospital corridor filled with benches for news from Robin’s ob-gyn, Doctor Riverview. Robin had been taken inside right away. All the happiness and cheerfulness from the trial had vanished and they just looked at each other in concern. Strike looked like he was about to throw up.

“She can’t be pregnant. No way.” He repeated for himself.

“It’s okay honey, breathe,” Lucy rubbed his back softly. “She’s a strong gal, she’s going to be all okay.”

“Lucy’s right, she’ll be fine.” Charlotte reassured him. As if on cue, Doctor Riverview appeared and Strike looked at her trying to read her expression.

“Mr Strike,” Doctor Riverview reached him, “Ms Ellacott’s alright. Well, she’s awake and responsive, transfusions weren’t necessary but she’s resting in bed until her body produces enough blood to compensate properly all the loss.”

“What happened?” Strike asked, breathing out in relief.

“Ms Ellacott’s experiencing a miscarriage,” Doctor Riverview said. Strike frowned, feeling the bile reach his throat, “she already told me she’s on birth control and that no contraceptive seems to have failed that she can recall, but there isn’t a glimpse of doubt. We did a bit of cleaning inside and found... well, the remains of a pregnancy, sort to say. The miscarriage could be related to the difficulties experienced during the birth of the twins, or could be unrelated, the causes aren’t always evident.”

“But she’s going to be okay right?” Strike asked, concerned.

“Yes,” Doctor Riverview nodded. “We wrapped it all up, she may feel sick for a few days, but with rest and an adequate diet, she’ll be alright. Might be difficult for her to carry again though.” Strike nodded in understanding, passing a hand through his face.

“We weren’t even looking for it... I don’t know how... we were careful...”

“The pills fail easily, the second they aren’t taken in the right time or something,” the doctor explained. “As for condoms...” she shrugged. “I guess you must’ve forgotten about it someday.”

“Yeah, maybe drunk.” Strike breathed deeply. He was seriously considering getting surgery.

“Can I see her?” Strike asked. The doctor nodded and motioned for him to follow her. They walked a floor over them, to a shared bedroom, both beds separated by a curtain. Robin was sitting up in her bed, looking tired but okay. Her eyes, however, told Strike she had cried. He wondered if a part of her wished she could’ve carried the baby to term.

“Corm...” Robin moaned, tears starting to stream again. Strike sat on the verge of the bed and wrapped his arms around her, tightly. “I’m so sorry...”

“It’s okay love, it’s not your fault. You’re the best mother there is.” Strike kissed her hair, comforting her.

“She can leave whenever. She already signed the paperwork, just bring a change of clothes and she’s ready. That said, Ms Ellacott, off to bed until you’re 100% back on your feet. And if you see the pads get dirty too fast, straight back.” The doctor said. Robin nodded against Strike’s chest. “Good luck...” the doctor smiled sadly at them, and left.

 


	51. It takes time

Robin woke up the next morning, still feeling rather exhausted, in her bed back at home. She had instinctively moved in her sleep to Strike’s side of the bed craving his comfort, and she had her nose pressed against his pillow, his scent invading her senses. She opened her eyes slowly, realising where she was, and turned on her back, that she supported over their far too many pillows, seeing her mother enter the room with Daniel and Sophie walking next to her, gripping her pants, as she was holding a tray of breakfast.

“Good morning sweetie,” Linda Ellacott smiled at her only daughter, the kids climbing into the bed like they were used to doing, reaching their mother in silence. They, like Robin, were bad in the mornings. They’d rather sleep more, it never seemed to be enough, and they were un-talkative and overly clingy for the first few hours.

Strike and Robin would often have breakfast alone, then, if they didn’t have to get dressed they’d go straight for the kids, if they planned to go somewhere they’d dress before getting them, and each would grab a baby, sit on the sofa together, and snuggle letting them doze in their lap while sucking a baby bottle or, if they were more awake, while they feed them solid breakfast. The four would sit watching TV and finishing waking up, and then when they were ready, slowly start to face the day.

“Morning, what’re you doing here?” last Robin knew, her mother was in Masham. She looked at her children while her mother sat on the verge of the bed, putting the tray between herself and Robin, showing her a plate of English Breakfast and a mug of the tea she favoured.

It was obvious their father had dressed them. Not because they weren’t properly dressed, they were okay, but because it was done with Strike’s sense of humour. While Robin made them look more sophisticated and sweet, with brighter colours and sweet animal, childish stuff. Strike made them look more up for the adventure and like miniature adults.

Daniel had his short light brown, with a slight reddish tone, hair, messy and as strong as his dad’s, but as wavy as Robin’s. His little green eyes were half closing as he found a spot with his head against her chest, her arms one around each child as they mirrored positions. He had a gray jumper with a blue polo underneath, long jeans, and his little indoors boots, like his sister.

Sophie had her short hair, of the exact same characteristics as her brother’s, but organised, with a small bar hair clip keeping the most of it out of her face, which Robin appreciated, knowing if it was up to Strike, he would let her hair mess, but Sophie tended to scratch her face trying to keep her hair out of it, so it was for a greater good. Plus, Robin thought their daughter got even more adorable if possible with hair clips. Strike rolled his eyes at that. Sophie was physically very similar to Daniel, if anything they were more different in behaviour and psychology than body. But Sophie had Strike’s earlobes, while Daniel had hers, Sophie’s eyes were less thin and chubbier, Daniel’s face was less roundish. Sophie was also slightly taller and bigger than Daniel. Sophie wore dark brown leggings and a beige jumper with a light green tall neck tee underneath.

“Corm called us yesterday while you were getting dressed in the hospital,” Linda explained after kissing her daughter’s cheek, “I got here last night, he let me in. He’s just gone to work, but left breakfast for us. The babies also ate already. Your father wanted to come, but things are very busy up there, so he couldn’t.” Robin nodded slowly, managing to start eating while giving affection to the children.

“Well, I appreciate you being here mum, but there’s no need...” Robin shrugged, “I’m okay. Just tired. The kids and I can probably manage in bed all day.”

“Nonsense, you just miscarried Robin,” Linda insisted, eating her breakfast too. “It’s a lot to go through...” Robin meditated for a bit, eating her breakfast.

“Did you ever go through that?” Robin asked finally.

“Yeah, of course. Once, between Jonathan and Martin,” Robin looked at her mother surprised with the revelation, but Linda shrugged. “It happens way more often than you think.”

“I just...” Robin sighed, “Cormoran and I don’t want any more children for now. We’re too busy and we want to devote to Sophie and Daniel and we’ve been using everything and yet... don’t know, must’ve been at our wedding maybe we had taken too many cups and we forgot something. And yet, even though I know I don’t want any more for a couple years or so... I just, I’m sad I lost it. I wonder what it would have been. And to top it, apparently getting pregnant is now something super risky to me, so if we ever want more, we’ll need to adopt or something, so not only I lost a child, I lost the chance of going through that incredible experience again.” Her shoulders dropped and she left the remaining breakfast untouched. She couldn’t even eat that much so early, even though she appreciated Cormoran’s gesture. Linda put the tray on top of a nightstand and sat next to Robin, pulling Sophie into her lap and putting an arm around her daughter, who supported her head on her shoulder like she’d do as a kid, while Linda played with her hair.

“It’s okay to be upset love...” Linda said after a while, “That’s normal, even if you didn’t want them now. But don’t over-think, okay? It was barely a being, so early into the pregnancy, it didn’t feel a thing. Think of it as your period, chances of possible pregnancies dying monthly and is okay, not the end of the world. Be upset for as long as you need to, and then focus on the fact that you have two gorgeous children and a lovely husband, and if you ever feel like making the family bigger, we’ll cross that bridge when we get there. Getting so anxious in advance is worthless.”

“I know, it’s just... it sucks, still.”

“I know love, I know.” Robin felt her mother’s lips on her forehead, the twins’ warmth against her, and fell asleep shortly after.

Strike, who had a couple cases to cover through lunch time, wasn’t home until the evening. By then, the twins were well-entertained on their play mat in the sitting room and Linda and Robin prepared dinner. Robin remembered when she lived with Matthew the normal thing was that she’d cook, she’d clean, she’d iron, she’d do everything. That was one of the new odd things that had come with living with Strike, a man who was used to living alone and being independent and who would assume if he found something that needed to be done, no one but him would do it. In consequence, he did tasks around the house without expecting anything, and felt strange about the idea of taking turns with Robin, dividing tasks, etc. As he had said himself, ‘Robin, if I see something that needs to be done, why wouldn’t I do it, if I have time and opportunity? What kind of a jerk would I be if I, say, left my dirty underwear for days despite having chances to clean it, just because I’d rather you do it?’ and Robin had refrained to answer ‘Matthew, darling’.

However, cooking tended to fall in Robin’s shoulders. Not because Strike didn’t cook -he could cook really nice things every once in a while- but because decent meals had been the first thing Strike had given up on when working so many hours required, as Robin had experienced, jumping meals, to the point that he had lost practice on planning a balanced diet. Nonetheless, she’d still find him watching cooking programmes in the TV, and investigating healthy dishes mostly for the babies and herself, because he always started by what everyone else needed. Then he’d either make dish suggestions or encourage himself into sneaking in the kitchen anytime he had time enough to cook something, ruin it, and fix it. Robin was usually happy and satisfied with his lunches, with the small exception of a particularly salty rice that Strike had ended up throwing away. That said, he still ventured into helping her or Linda in the kitchen every single time he caught them in it. He found it was easy to follow their instructions and felt fulfilled when the family liked something he had contributed on making.

Robin didn’t mind if she had to cook more often than him, though. He was a sweetie, after all, playing and entertaining the children, cleaning the house, being the neatest man she had ever known -Ilsa had been right, he moved around the house without leaving a single trace- which eventually unwillingly pushed Robin into trying to imitate him, but still she realised most of the things he cleaned and organised were related to her.

Another novelty that Robin relished was the lack of keeping track of things. While Matthew had been keen to remind her the things he did, the things she hadn’t done, or the times at which she came home, Strike, who was popularly known for his prodigious memory, didn’t even seem to care to remember any of that. He never made resentful comments like ‘I’ve done the dishes every time this week and you haven’t’. He wouldn’t even care to know how many times each had done something or what had or hadn’t been done by each. He took very seriously that saying of starting by oneself and not looking at the others’ doings unless he was sure he was perfect. And he wasn’t keen to consider himself perfect. Robin laughed sometimes to herself, thinking of the idea that she used to consider Matthew such a romantic gentleman because he took their anniversaries, Valentines and her birthday very seriously, with plenty of gifts and luxuries, because now she had a husband who remembered every little detail of her, her feelings, her social life, who’d send things to her parents just because he saw them and thought they’d like it, without even telling her -because he wasn’t trying to earn points with her, he just thought Mr and Ms Ellacott would enjoy this or that he had seen-, who’d bring things to her or their children any day unexpectedly just because he thought they’d like it, and who, since he remembered everything, would be extra sweet and thoughtful when it came to special occasions. He rarely went for buying a ton of things, such as flowers. He’d buy her tickets to that thing she had mentioned that month that she wanted to see without thinking he had heard her, he’d buy her those chocolates she liked so much because he realised she had ran out of them, he’d surprise her with a trip to Masham because she had been missing it and the horses those days, he’d take her to the beach down south because she had been commenting she was pale and missed the ocean, or he’d surprise her with a massage because he had paid attention to the little ways in which her body language indicated she needed it.

He was, as Linda liked to remind her, a perfect husband and father in all possible ways Robin would ever want. So neither of them thought it was odd at all when Strike came that evening with a box of Linda and Robin’s favourite pastries and a bottle of that wine Linda loved but could never find in Masham.

“Hullo!” Strike said arriving home that evening, leaving the treats he had bought on the coffee table so he could melt away with his children, who played next to it with some books that made striking sounds. He grunted as he knelt between them, his big arms protectively around them as he peppered kissed on them. “Ah, my favourite burritos... What’s that? Woah, it does yellow lights!” he over-enthusiastically said seeing the kids fascinated with the weird noises and lights their books made.

“Daddy cow,” Sophie said pointing at a cow in the drawing.

“Yeah, which colour is the cow babes?” Strike was saying with a tone Robin had only ever heard him make when it came to his children. Robin and Linda chuckled observing from the kitchen over the kitchen bar.

“White and black!” Daniel pointed at the cow, looking at his father with inquiring eyes as if challenging him to say otherwise.

“That’s right, you’re two smart kids aren’t you?” Strike kissed them again. “What did you do today? Had fun here?” they both nodded and Strike kissed them a last time before grunting his way back to his feet, grabbing the treats he had brought again, and limping his way to the kitchen with the happy high-like expression he always got after a good twin time. He put the things on the kitchen bar and made his way inside the kitchen. “How’re my favourite ladies?” he asked wrapping his big strong arms around Robin, who smiled softly closing her eyes and enjoying the embrace.

“Better now,” Robin answered, tiptoeing to kiss him. Linda smiled at them. “How was work? You’re limping.”

“Yeah, it was okay but had to walk a lot today.”

“Corm honey, why don’t you go take a warm bath see if it helps uh?” Linda suggested. “Supper will be ready in forty five minutes or so.” Strike nodded.

“Good idea then,” he looked down at Robin, kissing her forehead. His eyes eyed her full of concern. “How are you really?” he murmured just for her.

“I’m fine, really.” Robin assured. “Go take care of that leg okay? I’ll kiss it better later.” She winked at him and he rolled his eyes with a little side smile, pulling away to head upstairs.

“Oh, treats!” Linda smiled picking up the pastries and wine Strike had brought home. “This husband of yours really knows how to treat a lady...” Robin chuckled looking at her, and continued to attend the supper.

Strike came right on time to set the table, his wet hair all messy in a way that did things to Robin, a long sleeved British Army tee, and long pants that covered his prosthesis on. Robin looked down and giggled seeing that Strike had forgotten that he always left his shoe and sock on the prosthesis but he hadn’t put anything on the other foot, which was barefoot, so it looked odd.

“Babes!” Robin pointed at his feet. He looked down and shrugged.

“Bah,” Strike looked sympathetically at her and sat down by the table with Sophie on his lap. Robin smiled at him and rubbed his already messy hair fondly before getting Daniel and sitting too, while Linda brought the food. “Yummy! Look what grandma and mummy made...” he added, tickling Sophie, who laughed with all her double chin.

“What’s dis?” Daniel asked pointing at the chicken.

“That’s chicken, love. Want some?” Linda offered, and he nodded with his eyes fixed on the chicken sauce.

“So what do we owe the pleasure of treats?” Robin asked her husband.

“I saw them and I remembered you like them.” Strike answered matter-of-factly. Robin smiled satisfied.

“Thanks hubby.” Strike looked smug at her and nodded.

“So how’s the family Linda?” Strike asked.

“Good,” Linda sat after filling her plate. “Michael’s all busy at work, the kids are all fine... Stephen and his wife, Emily, are expecting.” She laid the news carefully. Strike raised his eyebrows and looked cautiously at Robin, who grinned.

“What? Kept that quiet, the bastard! I’m so happy for them!” Robin seemed honestly happy. She caught their concerned glances. “Oh, come on guys I’m fine.” She stressed the last word.

“I know sweetie, but you know...” Linda shrugged. Robin sighed and shook her head.

“How far along is Emily?” Robin asked.

“Two months only. She’s due in September, so, not so far from the twins.”

“Heard that kids?” Strike commented. “You’re having a little cousin soon. Uncle Stephen is going big with birthday presents this year.” He joked. Robin rolled her eyes kissing Daniel’s cheek.

“Kissing?” Sophie asked confused.

“Cousin, Soph.” Strike corrected kindly. Sophie didn’t seem to understand what her father was talking about, so she shrugged and took a piece of chicken into her mouth with her hand.

“So Robin told me about the hearing about your mother,” Linda commented. “Pretty nice news, isn’t it?” she added happily.

“Yeah, my sister and I are over the moon,” Strike smiled cheerfully. Robin bit her lip softly thinking how she had ruined the celebration with her miscarriage. Strike seemed to notice and looked up at her. “Robin...”

“Yes?” Robin asked casually playing innocent. Strike sighed.

“You know what happened didn’t ruin the cheerfulness over my mother’s semi happy ending.” Strike said.

“No, I know, you don’t seem sad at all by losing a child,” Robin said it before she could actually think and regretted it right away. Strike looked at her in surprise. “Shit, I’m sorry I didn’t m...”

“You did mean it, don’t lie,” Strike said calmly. Linda threw a warning look to Robin who didn’t see it. “You’re right, I don’t seem sad because I’m happier than sadder,” Robin stared at him with a light frown, “and honestly, I’m not about to let a simple miscarriage steal the thunder from all the many reasons I’ve got to be happy.” Robin was feeling herself get pissed and wished the kids were already in bed. They had had supper already, they were just being greedy with the chicken. So she stood up to bring them to bed.

“I’ll put the kids in their cribs, be right back.” Robin said standing up. Daniel was already starting to doze off in her lap so she easily picked one toddler in each hand and after goodnight kisses from their grandma and daddy, Robin took them upstairs and into their cribs, tucking them in and kissing them in the forehead. They were both very close to passing out already, “I’ll read you a story in a bit okay? I’ve got to eat first. You two start getting comfy...” Robin said while adjusting them. “Love you both, sweet dreams.” Robin left their door ajar and went back downstairs. “We lost a child,” she said simply sitting back down and looking at Strike, who looked at her with obvious discomfort. Maybe he would’ve preferred to not have Linda there, but her mother’s presence made Robin feel braver. “How can you act as if nothing happened?”

Strike finished munching and rubbed a napkin against his mouth before leaning a bit over the table towards her. He nodded for himself before speaking.

“We didn’t lose a child, Robin,” he said calmly. “We’re parents of two children, Sophie and Daniel, and they’re passed out upstairs in their cribs. What we lost was just a project of a human being, it wasn’t even a month old, just a bunch of cells forming, not even called a foetus, just a two week old embryo. And of course it saddens me that we lost it, that it could’ve meant a third child and we won’t have that for now, and it saddens me to think of what could’ve been and wasn’t. But you know what?” Strike sighed and shrugged, “At the end of the day, I’d be an asshole if I wasn’t happy as fuck for everything else. Happy for my mother, something I’ve been waiting for twenty years, happy because I might’ve lost something that could’ve been a daughter or a son, but I didn’t lose an actual daughter and an actual son, who are alive, and healthy and well, which is something to be very grateful of. And if you had seen yourself bleed like I saw you, you’d understand that I was pretty damn sure I was going to lose way more than an embryo yesterday, and I’m pretty damn happy and relieved that you are here and we’re having dinner instead of your funeral.” His eyes were watery and Robin gulped, nodding softly. She felt like a jackass now, great.

“Well,” Linda broke the silence after a couple minutes. “Corm’s got a point, between the amount of shit that could’ve happened this is the least of all evils.”

“I know...” Robin gulped a knot in her throat. “I’m sorry okay? Is just... I know is stupid, I know you’re right,” she added looking at Strike, “and we’ve got way more reasons to be happy than not. But to me this is still a big deal. To me, it feels as if one of our actual children had died, and that does outdo all else. And of all places it could’ve died,” she added, her eyes getting teary and her voice hoarse, “it happened inside of me, in the one place it was supposed to be the safest. And I didn’t even know it was there.” She sniffled, looking down. Strike was by her in no time, sitting on an empty chair next to her and wrapping his arms around her. She sniffled softly against his neck, taking deep breaths to calm herself, and Strike kissed her temple rubbing her back.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise... I’m sorry,” Strike mumbled, squeezing her. “I knew it would be tougher on you, I just didn’t think...” he sighed against her hair. “Shit, I’m sorry love. But is not your fault okay? Even if you had known, there is nothing you could’ve done. Alcohol didn’t do this, nor work or anything you did, is just... I guess sometimes one gets lucky and sometimes not. Nothing we can do about it, love.” Robin nodded against his neck.

“I’ll make some tea...” Linda offered getting up.

“Thanks Linda.” Strike said.

The three moved to sit on the sofa with the tea, Robin squeezed between her mother and her husband, who squeezed one of her hands between his own.

“When I lost the embryo,” Linda said after a while, “I thought the same stuff...” Robin looked at her mother. “But eventually... it’s a matter of perspective. Your father, he said we couldn’t dwell on it forever, nothing we could’ve done. He said, ‘if those people who go to the Olympics had dwelled on their losses and been sad about them forever, they would’ve never been at the Olympics.’, because that’s life, we win, and we lose. He said, ‘look, we got Stephen, and Rob, and Johnny. Let’s focus on the good’. And it takes time but eventually, is not so hard anymore.”

“Yes...” Robin sighed. “Yeah, right...” she nodded for herself. “Well I better go read the kids their tale before they decide not to go to sleep.” She stood up leaving her mug half full on the coffee table.

“I can do that,” Strike suggested.

“Is fine, I’m tired anyway so I’ll go to bed.” Robin pressed her lips into a thin smile, meditating their words. They were pretty right, it was just something that definitely wasn’t happening from one night to morning.

“Okay, I’ll be there soon too...” Strike let her go back upstairs and sighed, looking at Linda.

“She’ll be fine, just give her time.” Linda smiled confidently at her and Strike nodded slowly. It takes time.

 

 

 


	52. I'll be around

It was the beginning of 2014’s spring and Robin had just come back to the office from working outside. Through the inner window of Strike’s inner office she realized the man, who had been humming ‘Don’t fear (The Reaper)’ while working there when she left, had gone out. Kate didn’t seem to be in her office either and there was a young woman sitting on the sofa of their waiting space.

“She’s been waiting for you.” Ginny informed Robin, who raised her eyebrows in acknowledgment and went to the young girl, transformed her surprised expression into a police greeting smile.

“Hi, I’m Detective Robin Ellacott,” Robin said reaching a hand to shake hers. The woman stood up nervously and shook her hand. “Our secretary says you were waiting for me?”

“Yeah uhm...” the girl, who didn’t look older than twenty, had long blonde hair and a bruised lip, and looked around nervously. “My name’s Nora Hadlock. I was hoping you could help me.”

“Sure, let’s go into my office. Nice to meet you Ms Hadlock.” Robin smiled gently at her and walked her into her inner office. Robin sat in her chair and Nora Hadlock sat on the chair in the other side of her desk, in front of her. The office door closed. “So, what can I do for you?”

“I...” Nora looked down and Robin frowned, concerned. Up close, she realized Nora had bruising in her temple too. “I’m only eighteen... is it okay? I mean... my parents, they won’t know right?” Robin looked thoughtful at her.

“Well, you’re old enough to get married so you’re old enough to hire a private detective without your parents knowing. Do you live with them?” Robin asked. Nora nodded nervously. “Okay then, don’t worry, we’re very discreet alright? Here, it’s all between client and detective, no one else has to know.”

“Good...” Nora dared to look up to her. “I came because... something happened to me and I read online... I read that it happened to you too, so I thought you’d be able to help.” Robin frowned between intrigued and worried.

“Sure, tell me.”

“I was raped,” Nora blurted suddenly after a deep breath. Robin felt her face lose colour. She stood up and lowered the blinds of the inner windows that led to the reception and Strike’s office -in the latest one, a faint lipstick stain was still present, from the little messages Robin would sometimes send her husband- and locked the door, to ensure privacy. Then she nervously sat next to Nora on another chair, offering her a box of tissues she had on her desk for those occasions. Nora had started to cry in silence and took a tissue. “Thanks...”

“Nora... can we address each other informally?” she added, Nora nodded. “Okay. Nora... You need to go to the police, alright? I know is hard, I know you won’t like it, but...”

“I went already,” Nora interrupted her with a hoarse voice. “But I couldn’t remember much of my rapist, it happened while I was drunk...” she breathed deeply. “I was coming home from a big party a classmate was throwing at her house, last Thursday. I got out of the metro station near my house, I live in Kensal Green,” Robin nodded. She was dreading what came next, her heart beating strongly in her chest. She didn’t understand how Nora, so young, had it in her to be there a few days later, instead of agoraphobic locked in her bedroom. She had come all alone all the way from Kensal Green, thirsty of revenge instead. “I don’t remember much, because I was so drunk... I saw a man, all dark clothes, couldn’t see his face. He was sitting on a corner not far from the station, looked like a homeless sleeping sitting.” Nora breathed deeply, blowing her nose in a tissue and rubbing her eyes. “I... I just wanted to leave him a pound and...” her eyes filled with tears. Robin couldn’t help but reach a hand and squeeze her knee encouragingly. “I remember him, inside of me...” Nora sobbed. “Then a police siren sounded and... he didn’t have time to... to...”

“End inside.” Robin finished for her. Nora nodded. “So he just ran away?” Nora nodded again, blowing her nose.

“Police, they won’t be able to find him. I could only remember he’s a big guy, tall. Not very wide, but very strong, he jumped on me...” she breathed deep again. “I didn’t have time to... to... he just lifted me up, pressed me against a wall, and right there, you know? Took him less than a minute to... to... and then... he just ran away, I fell to the floor and all. At first... I didn’t know... didn’t understand...” Robin nodded. “He had punched me in the face, I didn’t realise at first. Then I saw blood in my thighs, my pants down... I put my clothes okay again and... I went home... my mother was up working and she drove me to the hospital right away... but they’re going through a lot, this... this really affected them.” Robin had a flash back of Matthew ‘ _she was comforting me’_ and felt angry suddenly that raped people would have to worry for their family and friend’s feelings more than their own. “They feel guilty. So I figured... maybe I could spare them from... and come here alone... don’t want them to deal with more. But I want to find him, before he hurts someone else, you know? I don’t have much money but... I could maybe clean here a couple hours every day until you find him, to compensate? You know, barter...” Robin felt an incoming headache and she had to sit back. This couldn’t be happening. Not this.

There was a knock in the door and they both jumped in their seats.

“Robin?” It was Kate, their friend and assistant. “All right there?” She asked through the door.

“Yeah!” Robin said towards the door. “Is all good, don’t worry.”

“Okay, I’ll be around if you need a hand.” Kate answered back, and Robin heard her steps into her office. When she turned to look at Nora again, Nora seemed confused.

“It’s alright,” Robin assured her. “We just got attacked once in our other office and... well... that’s why we’ve got so many windows. Security.” Nora nodded in understatement.

“So, do we have a deal? You’ll find him? Because I know,” Nora said nervously, “I know you’re the best. You and Strike, I saw on the news and the paper... you can find him, no matter how little I remember of him. Plus I’m sure, I’m sure if I saw him, I could tell if it’s him. I know. I could recognize his voice too.”

Robin breathed deeply walking to the window. Hyde Park was sunny and bright out there, making her wish she was there and not in her office, her heart about to run out of her chest. A fucking rapist. She had put hers for life in prison, after all, hers had tried to kill her too, hers had raped two girls before her, but she wasn’t sure she could do this. Strike would be mad, he always wanted to protect her, keep her away from everything that hit close. But he had been so happy to end Whittaker, she’d be so happy to put another bastard between bars.

“Alright,” Robin turned around and nodded, mustering the strength for a tiny smile. “You don’t have to pay, I can only imagine you alone can’t pay much. Don’t worry about that.” Nora looked hopeful at her.

“You’ll get him?” Robin nodded.

“We will. We’ll make sure he never sees the light of the day again for what he’s done okay?” Robin assured, sitting again next to her. “But Nora, until then, you need to be careful okay? Super careful. And it’s never a bad idea to learn some self defence skills, you should tell your parents to get you some good ones.”

“Someone you can recommend?” Nora asked with a hint of a smile. Robin smiled, and nodded.

Robin refused to let Nora walk home alone, and asked her personally not to go anywhere alone either until she had learnt some self defence and definitely never after dark, at least not until they caught the bastard who was still around her neighbourhood. After Nora was safely at her house in Kensal Green, Robin went back to the office and found Strike and Kate already closing the office for the day, locking the main entrance. Robin had been so caught up with Nora that hadn’t realized it had gotten late while she was in the over-ground for so long.

“Hey you,” Strike smiled at her, “Kate says you got a tiny visitor today, all good?”

“Sure,” Robin kissed him and intertwined their fingers. “Home?”

“Yeah, I’m drained.” Strike recognised. He was already thinking of the chubby cheeks of the twins, waiting for their kisses. Kate followed them to the lift.

“God, I need sex tonight.” Kate breathed out in the lift. Strike laughed.

“The madam is home?” Strike asked.

“Yeah, yeah. She bought lingerie today, actually, she texted me.” Kate winked at Strike, who blushed. Robin looked at the exchange with curiosity. She had never bought lingerie, in her entire life. Did Strike like that? _Well,_ she thought to herself, _he sure hasn’t bought lingerie for himself either_.

“Okay, so spill out.” Strike said as he got comfy in bed later that night. Robin had been ‘reading’ in bed for half an hour, but she also hadn’t passed a page in half an hour, and her pupils had just stared at the infinite. He had to pinch her for her to react.

“Hey!” She rubbed her skin with a frown, leaving the book aside.

“Robin, you aren’t even listening. What’s wrong?” Strike asked concerned, putting an arm around her hip and kissing her shoulder. Robin rolled her eyes and turned to caress his hairy cheek.

“Nothing’s wrong baby.”

“Something’s bugging you, you’re all... anywhere but here. All the way home, I saw it.” Strike said. That was the ups and downs of marrying a detective. Robin was almost sad for the children whenever they wanted to try and lie to them or hide something, unless the combined detective brains of the parents were both present in them, making them more intelligent than themselves.

So Robin told him all about Nora. At the end, Strike stared into space, a slight frown present in his face. He lied face up on the bed, his expression circumstantial and Robin rolled onto her side, putting her hand on his belly, her emerald shining with the moonlight coming from the window over the headboard.

“Alright...” he nodded after a while. “Then you’re not doing this alone, okay?”

“Yeah, I know.” Robin nodded in agreement. “What about the idea of doing it for free, doesn’t bug you?”

“We found Laing for free, just to put a dangerous murderer in prison. This will put an asshole of a man capable of God knows what between bars, of course I’m fine with it.” Strike assured her, looking to her face. “What I do worry about though, is how are you?”

“I’m okay actually,” Robin answered. “It was a shock but now I feel like I’ve assimilated it and I’m ready. It’s not as bad as I thought it’d be. Besides, I already made a couple phone-calls to make sure my asshole is still in prison.”

“I’d kill him if he ever tried to hurt you again,” Strike grumbled. “I’d just kill him. Him, and anyone who tried...” He huffed in disgust and Robin smiled kindly.

“I’d rather you not kill anyone. You know, so you can be present in our children and mine’s lives instead of in prison for life.” Robin joked rolling on top of him and kissing him.

“I love you Robin.” Strike said as they locked eyes.

“I know. I love you too, my giant,” Robin kissed him again. His devotion for her was always heart-warming, and she hadn’t expected his total support just like that, thinking he’d try to push her aside. He must’ve understood how truly important it was for her. “Let me try relax your mind a little, uh?” she said sweetly, moving her hand down there and cupping his sack over the boxers. Strike gulped.

“I uh... you want to...”

“Make love?” Robin smiled at him lovingly. “After hearing all about non-consensual shit, I feel very up for some consensual love-making like only Mr Strike can do...” Strike smiled at her, and kissed her.

Making love with Strike wasn’t something to get nervous for. He was sweet and loving and it was all laughter, lingering kisses over sweaty skin, soft, sweet kisses peppering all over, loving words whispering by her hear. With him, Robin felt for the first time that this was the consumption of love, for real. It was as if love exploded in a bomb of affection and devotion for each other.

When Robin woke up, she was face down pressed against the pillow, the duvet covering her ass, and Strike was just out of the shower, in his boxer, sitting by the edge of the bed, massaging her back with one hand while his lips ghosted over her skin leaving feather kisses. Robin smiled turning her head to look at him.

“Hi,” Strike smiled at her. She looked sleepily at him, not even mad for having just woken up anymore.

“Hullo handsome,” Strike looked smug at the compliment and leaned to kiss her lips.

“The kids are still asleep,” Strike said pulling apart. “You can stay asleep a bit longer, I’ll make breakfast.”

“That sounds tempting,” Robin commented sitting up, letting her breasts be on display and putting her arms around Strike’s neck, giving him open-mouthed kisses. Strike smiled against her lips, putting his big hands on the sides of her torso. “But we could have some fun instead...” Robin suggested with a wink, pulling apart.

“Babes, you know I’d love to,” Strike kissed her forehead, enjoying the feeling of her breasts pressed against his chest, “but I’m actually on a hurry today. Work.” Robin groaned.

“You’re right, I’ve got Nora’s case...” encouraged by the idea of catching a rapist, she got up with renewed energy.

As they had breakfast, Robin turned the TV on. April started with a bunch of sad news, but one made Robin’s mug of tea fall to the floor and crack in a hundred pieces. But Robin didn’t even notice, or Strike asking what was going on, her eyes fixed on the screen. Her eyes widened and she got chills all over seeing the face on the screen.

“Robin!” Strike shook her shoulder lightly. “What’s up?”

“Him,” Robin whispered pointing to the screen.

“What?” Strike looking at the screen. There was a man with a fixed pupil on the screen, apparently a prisoner who had hung himself in his cell. According to the news, his name was Orson Trewin.

“It’s...” Robin stood up. “He’s the guy... he’s the guy who...” Robin stuttered. “University. He’s the guy.” Strike frowned and looked at her, concerned, forgetting the mug shattered on the floor. Realization came to his mind.

“He’s the guy who raped you.” Strike muttered. Robin nodded slowly. “He hung himself?”

“Yes,” Robin let her ass fall on the sofa. Strike sat next to her, an arm around her shoulders, and they both stared at the TV. According to the news, Orson Trewin, 46 and born and raised in Peels, Wales, had hung himself in his cell and had been found by his cellmate that night. Trewin had only been in prison for eleven years after having a life condemn. After that set of news, they went on to talk about football just like that, leaving Robin in a mixture of emotions, shocked on the sofa.

“I’ll clean that up.” Strike got up, picked up the pieces of mug from the floor and threw them into the trash, moping the floor afterwards. By then, Robin had gotten up and was walking around the sitting room with lost eyes.

“I can’t believe it.” Robin breathed out. She got to live with what had happened for the rest of her life, but no, he got to go and die just like that. And they called it justice. Strike left the mop aside and put his arms around her, hugging her close.

“At least he’ll never get to escape prison and touch you,” Strike tried to be positive. He didn’t quite imagine what she must be feeling. Robin nodded against his shoulder.

“You’re right,” Robin pulled apart and smiled a little, “he’s gone. Good. Let’s go and get some jerk between bars, shall we?”

 

 

 


	53. Work days

During a work break, Strike, Kate and Robin sat on the sofas of their office drinking some coffee and tea. They were chitchatting and helping each other a little commenting cases, when Robin’s phone rang. She excused herself into her own office, seeing it was Nora.

“Morning Nora, everything alright?” Robin asked into the phone.

“I saw the guy who raped me on the news today,” Nora said. “That Orson Trewin guy. He hung himself in prison. How come he was in prison already, Robin? He raped me!” Robin frowned, falling on her seat. That statement had no logic at all.

“Nora...” Robin didn’t know how to put things. “Nora, Orson Trewin was the guy who... who attacked me. He’s been in prison for the past eleven years, ever since I won the trial against him. There’s absolutely no way he’s attacked you, you must be confounding him with someone else, didn’t you say you hadn’t seen the attacker clearly?”

“I also said I’d recognise him when I saw him,” Nora said matter-of-factly, “and I’m sure he’s the guy who attacked me. I don’t know, maybe it was someone exactly the same?”

“How can you be so sure?” Robin asked. She was starting to put in doubt the quality of Nora’s memory and her capacity of observation.

“The vitiligo white patch right under his ear. I remember it. And his eyes. When I saw him, I had a flashback, you see? I was doing zapping when he appeared on screen, I was perplexed.” Nora’s tone was a bit nervous, but certain.

“Have you called the police?” Robin asked. “Have you told them this?”

“Yeah, but they said the same as you, that I’m confused and all... but I know what I saw Robin, I know.” Robin breathed deeply.

“Alright... look, I’ll pass by Kensal Green today, see what I can find out. There has to be a logical explanation to this... anyway, have you gone to Louise yet?”

“Yeah, yesterday. She’s really good, I think I’ll be good with her self-defence skills.” Robin had sent Nora to the same ex soldier who had taught her self-defence.

“Good, stay with her. I’ll call you when I know something else, have a good day.”

Robin went and told Strike and Kate the conversation she had just had with Nora. They looked in a mixture between surprise and doubt.

“Well, Robin,” Strike said at last. “You’re the leading detective in this case. What’s your plan?” Robin, as usual, felt encouraged by the reminder that she was the leader and the assumption that of course she had a plan, why would Strike think otherwise.

“I’m going to print a bunch of pictures of Trewin and head to Kensal Green, see if anyone recognises him aside that from the news. Maybe he’s got a double somewhere, like actors do.” Robin shrugged. “Do you think if he knows I’m looking for him, he’ll run away?”

“Maybe,” Strike said. “But in any case, he might’ve run away already. Besides, he’ll think you’re looking for Orson Trewin, won’t think of himself.”

“Of course,” Kate nodded. “He probably hasn’t realised how alike he is to Trewin. Want me to go with you? I’ve got nothing for the rest of the day.”

Robin agreed and together, they headed to Kensal Green with a few dozen pictures of that man. Robin had made a poster with his face covering the whole A4 and then underneath written:  **We’re looking for a man alike this one who’s raped a young girl around here. Please, email this address with any info, for your own safety.** While Robin and Kate walked around Kensal Green putting the poster on the electric poles, walls, store showcases, etc., Kate elbowed Robin softly.

“So what’s the deal with this guy?” Kate asked curious.

“Nothing, but there’s a rapist around here who looks alike I suppose.” Robin shrugged, her alarm rape safely in her pocket.

“I know, but what’s the deal between you and Orson Trewin,” Robin looked at her in confusion but Kate, who had plenty of years of experience, wasn’t fooling around. “Every time you have to face him while putting up a poster, you do a small grimace, almost imperceptible except for a SIB, probably.”

“Oh...” Robin shrugged as they turned into Purves Road, a street full of tiny houses brown and white, not very crowded. She knew she could trust Kate. She liked Kate. But it had taken her a lot of alcohol and a lot of time to dare and mention it to Strike, who was now her husband, let alone Kate. “Nothing, I guess I just despise him. I heard he went to prison for raping a few students and almost killed one.” Kate nodded slowly, and even though Robin didn’t think she had completely bought it, she didn’t seem to want to press on the topic, noticing Robin’s discomfort.

“So it seems like whoever we’re after is really not very different from Trewin uh?” Kate commented casually. Robin observed her silently for a few seconds. She always had a tough appearance, but feminine. While Robin was a sundresses kind of girl, Kate was a leather, dark colours, and black boots in any form kind of girl. She rocked high-heels as if they were combat boots, and normal boots as if they were combat boots too. Robin realized she had a small nose piercing that shinned with the sun.

“Yeah, I guess.” Robin nodded. Her cell sounded then and she smiled stupidly recognizing the breaths of her twins, who tended to breathe strongly into phones as if trying to figure out how the fuck they worked. “Hi babes!”

“Mummy!” they said at once. They had left them with their very awesome, kind hearted nanny, a young woman who was the niece of the old couple that was their neighbours. Kate recognized the silly tone she got and smiled at her.

“How’re my two loves?” Robin asked sweetly. She loved to hear them. Sometimes the twins would call them because they missed them.

“You home soon?” Sophie asked.

“Not yet sweetheart, but I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Wah you done?” Daniel asked then.

“What am I doing, love?” Robin chuckled as he hummed like ‘just said that mum’. “I’m on the street trying to find someone. You?”

“Blocz...” Daniel answered.

“We bild tower!” Sophie added excitedly.

“You built a tower of blocks?” Robin asked excitedly. “That sounds super cool! I hope you tell Abby to take many pictures so I can see it later. Listen babes, I’ve got to hung up okay?”

“Okay...” the twins said in unison putting together their sadness. Robin pouted, even though they couldn’t see.

“I love you so hard kids, both of you. Be good to Abby, I promise I’ll be home quickly.” Robin assured.

“Loh ya mummy!” Robin hung up with sadness but still smiling.

“Burrito team?” Kate asked with a chuckle. Robin laughed, that was the nickname Strike often used to refer to their children.

“Yeah, they built a block tower. What a pair...” Robin blushed putting another poster up, the last one she was carrying.

“They’re sweet. It’s hard to think good old Cormoran would make such sweet creatures, with those adorable faces and all.” Kate commented stopping to ask a passerby if they had seen the person in the picture. When the conversation with the passerby finished they continued walking.

“How was Cormoran in the SIB?” Robin asked curiously.

“Look...” Kate stopped and after sliding the finger through her screen for a while, she showed Robin a picture. The picture showed a young Cormoran Strike in his late twenties, thin and all muscle and fibre, next to a younger Kate, both arm and arm, wearing their bath-suits, their big amount of muscles on display. Robin’s jaw dropped seeing such abs on Strike’s already hairy torso. His skin was tanned, his hair, a bit shorter, the wet curls thrown back, he was clean shaven too. His arms where muscled and strong, both his legs equally muscled and full of fibre. Robin felt herself blush and get a bit horny. “Handsome, uh? This was in a day off in Cyprus. We went to the beach with some mates for my birthday.”

“Jesus Christ, he was so... hot. Well, he still is, I mean,” Robin blushed and Kate laughed, putting her phone in the pocket. “I’ve never seen him so young, aside from the trial pictures.”

“Yeah, he was quite a cool man. He always had something sad in the eyes though, you know? You could tell he’d had it rough. But he was tough and obviously never talked about it with anyone. We just got very close, going drunk and telling our lives.” Kate explained.

“Did you two ever...?” Robin asked. Kate laughed and shook his head.

“I’m too lesbian honey. I would’ve tried to get you in bed, but not him,” Kate winked jokingly and Robin blushed harder. “Besides, he was a man of little words and not much sleeping around. He was with Tracey then, another SIB. Then he went back to Charlotte’s arms. And he was loyal, always been. I don’t think he was ever into me anyway, his type is more...” she shrugged. “Girls who need saving. Except you of course. I was surprised he went for you.”

“Why?” Robin asked, putting her hands in her pockets as they turned right towards the train station.

“Because you’re sweet but powerful. You’re one of those girls who don’t look like it but could break your skull if you messed around too much. You’re someone who needs no one to keep going, you know? Strike doesn’t have to protect you or save you, he can just enjoy you.” Robin felt her ears hot.

“Wow... well thanks.”

“Bah,” Kate smiled at her. “I’m glad he’s got you though. I’ve never met a girl who deserved someone like him so much.”

They went into a hair salon and asked the owner, a young girl, if they could hang a poster.

“Sure...” the woman said, and then frowned looking at the picture. “That guy looks just like a guy a slept with the other day...” Robin and Kate exchanged excited looks.

“You slept with him?” Robin asked. “When?”

“Who are you even?” the woman said.

“I’m Detective Robin Ellacott, and this is my colleague ex-SIB Kate Fulton. We were hired to find out who raped a girl of this neighbourhood in March, just around a week ago.” Robin said. The woman nodded slowly.

“His name is Walt,” the woman said. “I’m Iona Ledding, by the way. I met him at a party, in March. We were hooking up. I don’t know if he’d ever... I barely knew him. But he was just like that guy, the white patch under the ear and all, yeah. I saw him last time over a week ago, yeah. He came home all hurried up one night, packed his backpack and disappeared. I didn’t have his number or anything so...” she shrugged. Robin felt her heart beating strongly in her chest.

“Are you sure it was this guy?” Robin asked.

“Crystal clear, yes. Did he rape a girl here?” Iona frowned.

“Yes,” Kate nodded. “Thank you so much for your information. Please, if you remember anything about him, where he went or any comment he did about job or family, anything... call us.” Kate gave her their business card. Iona took it and nodded.

“Sure... God, it’s terrible... He didn’t seem like a rapist.” Iona looked genuinely frustrated. “I hope you catch him. Is police after him too?”

“Yes,” Robin lied. Police wasn’t going to believe this shit and to be honest, she didn’t know how to explain it either.

 

 


	54. Looking for the truth

They spent weeks unsuccessfully trying to figure out how was Orson Trewin alive and out of prison, when someone exactly the same was outside. Their theory is that as odd as it is, there is someone just like Trewin outside, named Walt, but as much as they investigate, they can’t manage to find any Walt. What they do know is that Walt has most likely left London already, which makes things harder. Is one night, when Robin’s awake in bed with her laptop checking pictures of the case while Strike lies awake next to her, thoughtful, that Robin notices something odd about the pictures.

“Is strange...” Robin murmured. “But when I see Trewin’s last picture alive in prison, there’s something about him... I can’t pinpoint it. But it gives me a different vibe than the Trewin I remember. Is like... like a dream. It’s apparently the exact same thing, but something tells you it isn’t, you know?” Strike sat up and looked at Robin’s laptop’s screen.

“He looks thinner and well... the typical shit prison does to someone,” Strike shrugged. “That’s what you’re seeing different.”

“Yeah, I guess...” Robin sighed. Strike massages her shoulders softly.

“Don’t worry, is the first big case you’re leading, it’s normal that it takes a bit longer to start getting clues quick. Look at me with the Laing case, and it was right on my nose.” Strike chuckled softly, sympathetically. Robin nodded, turning to kiss his shoulder.

“I’m just scared that he’ll get someone else while I’m not finding him...” Strike nodded slowly and rubbed her back with a big hand, slowly.

“You’ll get him, that’s what matters. He’ll pay. Keep your eyes in the reward and find the right perspective to get there. Sometimes is just a matter of changing the point of view.”

Robin looked back at the pictures and then got an idea.

“Do you think your friend Hardacre could get me the pictures of Trewin’s dead body?” Robin asked.

“Sure, you think there’s something there?” Strike asked.

“I don’t know, but I feel I should check. Police always checks right?” Robin shrugged. Strike was already finding Hardacre’s contact on his phone.

“Hey mate!” Strike said nicely. “Yeah, sorry about the timing, is just an emergency. Listen, remember my wife, Robin, she another one of the detectives in our agency?” He smiled at Hardacre’s answer. “Exactly. Well, I’ve got a personal favour. You see, she was the girl who got Orson Trewin in prison, you must’ve seen he hung himself in prison, was over the news recently? Yeah... Thing is, she’s having a hard time dealing with it, she can’t quite believe it and she’d really like to see him dead, you know, just to process. She was wondering if you’d maybe be able of sending her pictures of his dead body, police always takes those and since you’re an important guy... exactly. I know, I know is a big favour... thank you so much mate, you’re awesome. Bye.” He hung up and smiled at Robin. “He thinks he can access them, give him a couple days. He’ll text them to me.” Robin grinned and kissed him.

“You know, you’re so hot when you show your skills.” Robin winked.

“So what are we doing ‘bout that?” Strike asked with the pupils dilated. Robin laughed and put the laptop aside, rolling over him while making out.

A few days later, Robin’s looking at the pictures Hardacre sent. She’s been looking at them like crazy for several days without noticing something, but that evening she was enjoying a cup of wine at Ilsa and Nick’s, who had invited them into the house for dinner to blow the news that Ilsa was pregnant for the second time, three months pregnant now. The three children had fallen asleep after playing together for a while and the adults were chitchatting while finishing dinner.

“Robin, you should relax,” Nick said with a sympathetic smile sitting in front of her. “Those disgusting pictures seem like your best friend.” Robin put the phone on the table and drank a long sip of red wine.

“Is just...” Robin sighed. “I’ve got the weirdest feeling about this. Trewin’s dead, and his brother died shortly after Trewin was put behind bars, his boat appeared in pieces by the shore after a storm, body was never found. But they aren’t the kind of face that’s like all common, even less with those eyes and the vitiligo forming the exact same patches... Is an absolute nonsense. It can’t be Trewin.”

“But you’ve got two witnesses who claim he is.” Strike pointed out. Robin nodded.

“It’s incredibly frustrating.” Robin sentenced.

“Just think of the awesome holidays we’re going to spend in Regensburg sweetie,” Ilsa chuckled at her. “You’ll see how your brain relaxes enough to think clearer.” Robin smiled taking another gulp of wine and looking back at the pictures and suddenly she gasped and hit the table with her palm.

“Orson’s Malcom!” Robin yelped.

“What?” Strike frowned looking at the pictures.

“Look...” Robin pointed at the patch under Trewin’s ear. “It was right on my nose the whole time. Look at the shape of the patch okay? In the photos of the dead body after he hung himself, the patch is pretty roundish, right?”

“Right...” Strike nodded.

“Now look at this,” Robin scrolled until she found a picture of Orson Trewin during his trial for raping her. She zoomed as much as she could. “Here the patch is more like a paint stain, not roundish at all.”

“Is it possible that it changed with time?” Strike asked.

“Well, yes...” Robin nodded. “But it certainly cannot get smaller over time, if anything it’d get bigger. Look, the picture after his death shows it’s smaller. The skin around it seems to have never suffered. And...” Robin grinned in excitement. “I just noticed, look, doesn’t it seem to be closer to his ear in the older photos?” Strike nodded slowly and chuckled.

“Well seen Robin!” Strike said proudly.

“Okay but what does that mean anyway?” Ilsa asked. Robin frowned momentarily, lost in thought. What did that mean? And then she got an idea. She went back to the pictures of the trial and noticed one of Orson’s brother, Malcom, who disappeared and presumably died at sea.

“Malcom’s got the same exact patch than the dead body.” Robin breathed out.

“They switched the goods.” Strike said suddenly. Robin nodded. “Orson Trewin never went to prison, Malcom did instead. But why and how? It was Orson at the trial, he would’ve been arrested immediately after.”

“No...” Robin looked at Strike. “Remember when you went to prison? While the jury was making decisions, you weren’t with the cops.”

“But they kept an eye on me.” Strike said.

“Yes, but Lucy could see you in private before the jury called back,” Robin reminded him. Strike nodded in acknowledgement, “what if Orson asked to go to the bathroom, along with his brother. They probably took the handcuffs off so he could hold his dick, and police waited right outside the door. They go in, change, and the person that comes out and gets the handcuffs is actually Malcom, who is arrested and taken to prison after the jury’s announcement.”

They spent the remaining weeks of April researching all they could find on the Trewin family. They found out Ms Trewin had died when the twins were ten, from an overdose, but Mr Trewin was alive and still in their hometown of Peel, in Man’s Island. After finding his house, Strike, Kate and Robin plan a trip there for the beginning of May. It would be a long trip, almost ten hours on the road plus Ferry.

They left the twins with their godparents so they could start practicing for an extra child or two and took Strike and Robin’s car and between the three, took turns in the wheel while the other two slept either splashed on the back -baby chairs off- or on the other front seat. On the way there, Blue Öyster Cult blaring for a big part of the way, alternating with other oldies such as Bon Jovi.

“And Iiiiiiii will looooveee youuuu babeee.... aaaaaaaaaaalwaysssss and Iiii’ll be thereee forever and a day...” Strike sang from the backseat, his mouth near Robin’s ear as she drove and laughed. He had a beautiful voice indeed. “Nanananana..... if you told me to cry for you... I could. If you told me to die for you... I would...” He smiled sweetly at Robin and Kate had to laugh while Robin blushed.

“Bollocks Strike, let her focus in the road I don’t want to die.” Kate said laughing.

Once they were in Man’s Island, exhausted, they fell in bed in the closest place they could find. The next day early they drove the rest of the short way left to Peels and found Mr Trewin’s home.

“Here he lives.” Robin said, pointing to the door.

“I’ll wait for you two outside,” Kate suggested. “So the old man isn’t overwhelmed by too many visitors at once.” Strike nodded and followed Robin to the door.

Robin knocked a couple times and shortly after, a young lady appeared.

“Hello,” Robin smiled in her sweetest. “My name is Venetia Hall and this is my partner, Eric Bloom. I’m a lawyer from London. Mr Orson Trewin hired me before he decided to kill himself and gave me a message for his father, said he lives here?” The woman nodded slowly.

“Yeah, I’m his hired caretaker,” the woman explained and her expression looked a bit sad. “Listen, Mr Trewin’s got Alzheimer. He got really bad after his wife died, deteriorated quickly. By the time his children left Peel, he didn’t even remember he had children anymore. I don’t think he wanted to remember either after... well, after what Orson did.”

After that it was clear they had no business there, so they thanked the woman for her time and turned around, meeting with Kate, who had taken the wheel, in the car.

“So what’s the plan?” Kate asked after they had updated her.

“We ask around,” Robin said. “These people grew up here. If someone knows whether he’s alive, whether they really exchanged identities in trial, they have to be here.”

“But even if they exchanged identities,” Kate reasoned as she drove, “and Orson became Malcom after the trial, Malcom was still presumed dead in the ocean.”

“Exactly, presumed,” Robin commented thoughtful. “I’ll believe it when a body appears, is not so hard to fake it. But before we get there, we need to figure out if he’s here. My theory is, if Orson Trewin became Malcom, then it would make sense for him to change his identity by faking his death and starting a new life as someone new, maybe hide here. If he did that, he did it not long after the trial, which suggests maybe he was also afraid the real Malcom would get some friend outside the prison to kill him for revenge, for putting him there. And we also need to know, why did Malcom accept to take his place in prison? Because he didn’t look like he had been beaten up to it.” Strike looked at her satisfied and nodded.

“Well thought Robin,” he encouraged her. Kate nodded in agreement.

After asking around all they could, they only got to figure out that the Trewin twins had been problematic and had often gotten in trouble and participated in drug gangs during their late teens and early twenties, until they both left Man’s Island. Apparently after their mother died, their father turned to alcohol and drugs, and was violent towards them. Some ex-classmates of the twins remembered having seen them covered in bruises, that the people around feared the father, that it was known to be strict, violent, aggressive. There were also suspicions that he had sexually assaulted his children too. But soon, Alzheimer had taken him away, at a fast speed. Another thing they found out was that when they were fourteen, the Trewin twins had gone with their class on a school trip to the beach and the Twins had disappeared with a classmate named Chloe Gosby. Only the twins came back, shaken up, saying Chloe had fallen down a small cliff into the sea. Her dead body was found hours later and it was declared an accident as the children had been playing there.

With that information, the three drove to the accident place. It was an isolated zone in the countryside, the side of a hill that went down ending in a small cliff. However, if you were up the hill and weren’t careful enough you could end up on the ground and roll, gaining speed as you approached the cliff, and falling on the rocks in the sea, dying. It was also a windy area. The three carefully approached the cliff.

“What do you think?” Robin asked the men.

“Easy to have an accident,” Kate looked around.

“This wasn’t an accident,” Strike argued looking down at the ocean. “Why would two teenagers get a girl far from the group?”

“You think they raped her?” Kate asked him with disgust.

“We know at least one of them was capable of rape. He raped a few girls before the one who got him in prison,” Robin frowned looking around, but after so many years there was no way they could find something police had passed then.

“I think,” Strike started, “that for whatever reason they came here, probably rape her just like their father raped them. Then they needed to get rid of her, so they pushed her. Two against one, it would’ve been so easy.” Robin looked thoughtful for a while and then she got an idea.

“I know what happened!” Robin exclaimed victoriously. “It was Malcom, he, for whatever reason, maybe rape, wanted to get rid of Chloe. Maybe she had rejected him in school or whatever, that’s the least of our problems. Thing is, he took the lead, and Orson, he saw him and covered him,” Strike and Kate looked at her attentively.

“That’s how Orson got Malcom to exchange places and go to prison for him!” Kate said suddenly.

“Malcom was afraid Orson would bring him in for murder,” Strike breathed out. “He would’ve gotten life anyway but the conditions would’ve been much worse than the ones he’d have if he went in Orson’s place.” Robin nodded with a little smile.

“But then, Orson realized it was very likely that Malcom would try to keep him shut up so he wouldn’t be able to threaten him forever, they participated in drug gangs, they had friends outside and Orson knew Malcom could kill because he had killed Chloe with only fourteen years old,” Robin explained.

“So he faked his death, get Malcom off his back.” Kate finished. Robin nodded. “Bloody brilliant if you think about it.”

“Police won’t gulp it though. We know the Met, and we’re basically speculating basing on our experience, instinct and hunches,” Strike brought them back to reality. “Remember how much the Met dislikes us. They’ll need much more tangible facts before they announce Orson Trewin is alive and God knows where, raping girls. If this comes out to the press, some Met are going to have their reputations very screwed up, for not realizing. They exchanged in their faces, what a ridicule.” Robin nodded.

“What about the pictures?” Kate suggested. “We could show them about the patch under the ear...”

“I’ve gone to them with bigger evidence than that and still, they refused to listen. They’re pissed we leave them for fools year after year.” Strike explained. Kate bit her lip in frustration, she hadn’t been there when the Met had been constantly mocking Strike and his job and threatening them if they nosed in the investigation.

“It seems like we’re on our own this time.” Robin sentenced.

 

 

 


	55. Girl's research

Back in London, they started to investigate Malcom’s (in reality Orson’s) faked death. After the first few days of May, they decided to travel to Aldeburgh, where Malcom had been last seen alive and where, according to information Anstis and Hardacre managed to get them, he had one night of 2005 rented a car and disappeared into the sea. The next day a storm had fallen, bringing the remains of his small back into the shore, but no trace of Malcom. Strike had stayed in London so their agency wouldn’t fall apart while they investigated, and Robin went with Kate. They walked around the shore where the boat had been found, thoughtful, in silence. Robin was troubled, coming to terms that the man who almost killed her had walked free all these years, if they were right with their speculation. Kate seemed to notice.

“Okay, spell it out,” Kate said finally, exasperated, as they stood by ocean under a sunny day of May. Robin looked at her and new she couldn’t hide it any longer.

“I’m the girl who got him in prison,” Robin blurted out. Kate looked confused for a few seconds and then her eyes widened in realisation.

“Fuck, Rob...” Kate sighed.

“It doesn’t change anything okay?” Robin got nervous right away. Was Kate, an exemplar ex-SIB, going to judge her? Would she determine Robin unfit for the job, due her personal implication? “I’m being objective. That’s why Strike and you are helping, to make sure I’m being rational and objective. I’m a good detective, and I’ll do a good job regardless.”

“Look, if Cormoran knows this and trusts you then so do I,” Kate said firmly. “I just wish I had known sooner.”

“It’s not easy to tell,” Robin put her hands in her pockets and sat on the first bench she saw, leaning back against its back and sighing looking at the ocean. Kate turned around to look at her and nodded, going to sit next to her and squeezed her thigh, pressing her lips. “I thought he had been in prison, all this time, you know? I thought... Shit. Fucking shit.” She snapped. “It took me being very drunk to tell Corm, you know? Years ago, when we were going after Donald Laing, a guy who entertained himself attacking woman and sending us their pieces.”

“Bollocks!” Kate grimaced in disgust. Robin nodded.

“He was this close to putting me away from the investigation. I was engaged to Matthew then, my ex-husband. But he kept me in the job the best way he knew how. Laing did this,” Robin pulled her sleeve, showing the faint eight inch mark on her right arm. Kate frowned. “Needed surgery for that. Then in my efforts to put a rapist away, a second guy, I affected our case and police almost closed the agency, Cormoran was so furious at me he fired me.”

“No...” Kate was surely surprised at that. “He fired you? You?” Robin nodded.

“Impressive, uh?” Robin side smiled slightly.

“Hard to believe indeed...”

“I hadn’t heard of him in days when I got married. He turned up at the wedding, I had invited him long before all was fucked up but he had never confirmed. I said ‘I do’ smiling at him.” Robin smiled at the memory, her eyes on the ocean, and Kate laughed.

“You two are a fucking joke of people, unbelievable. Did you run away from your wedding them, sleep with him?” Robin blushed.

“Oh God no!” Robin laughed. “I realised I wasn’t looking at Matthew, blushed and looked back at Matthew. Continued with the wedding. Next time I could turn to look at Corm, he was no longer there. Looked for them everywhere, even during the reception.”

“Oh poor Matthew!”

“In my defence, he kind of had it coming. When I was agoraphobic in my room in University after what Trewin did to me, he was fucking his girl, for months. A girl that remained his friend and came to our wedding and was always trying to sleep with him and he loved the flirting.”

“Then bastard deserved it. Karma,” Kate laughed and Robin giggled and nodded. “So how did you and Mr Giant get together?”

“A few months after my wedding,” Robin explained. “I hadn’t heard from him yet. I had rowed with Matthew at our wedding when I went to call Corm during the reception, as I couldn’t find him, and realized my call history was erased and Cormoran looked blocked, realised Matthew did it when I had recently let him use my phone. I was so angry at him. I left Corm a voicemail, told him I would’ve liked for him to stay, that I was sorry for everything, that Matthew had taken my phone and blocked him behind my back. The only answer I got was a text congratulating me for the wedding, saying he was happy for me, apologizing... he told me Laing was arrested and all, which explained his poor looks at the wedding, they had fought...” Robin sighed. “Long story short, he told me he couldn’t have me back as much as he wanted, didn’t say why. I suspect it was because I was married and he had realized he felt for me. So he got me a job at the police, the Met had made comments on my brilliancy. Corm blocked me.”

“Ouch...” Robin nodded slowly.

“I went to the office and he ignored my existence. I could yell all I wanted, he’d politely ask his secretary to accompany me to the exit and call police if I didn’t leave. He pretended I didn’t exist. It hurt like fuck. Then a couple months after the wedding, he got accused for a murder I knew he hadn’t commit, and I was working with the cops that lead the case as a counsellor or assistant, sort to say. So I refused to work against him, resigned and visited Cormoran, he couldn’t ignore me then.” Robin explained.

“You got him out,” Kate reasoned.

“Yes. Well, I tried, Ilsa and I got proof in his favour... eventually Whittaker got him and you know the rest. We got together shortly after that, when I visited in the hospital. We had our Kairos moment, which with him tends to be related to women visiting him in the hospital.” She joked. Kate understood and smiled warmly.

“The decisive moment...” Kate commented.

“Indeed...” Robin conceded. “I was divorcing then, I didn’t want to be a cheater and I knew then that I wanted Corm. That I loved him,” she blushed. “Since I had nowhere to go, I went to Cormoran’s attic and took care of him while he recovered, living with him. Then we slept together.”

“Obviously,” Kate rolled her eyes with a chuckle. And Robin giggled. She already felt much better.

“That’s when I got pregnant. Flash forward, three years later, we’ll celebrate the third anniversary of our first official date in November, our children will turn two in August, and we’ll be one year married next January.”

“And you got a pretty house in Hackney instead of a box size attic.” Kate added.

“Touché.”

“Let’s kick some male ass then, shall we?” Kate stood up, smiling encouragingly at Robin.

“Damn yes.” Robin grinned, feeling in a much better mood, and walked next to her.

“And Robin?” Kate added, interlacing their arms and looking into her eyes. “If that son of a bitch tries to even breathe your same oxygen, we’ll break his fingers one by one.”

Asking around the neighbourhood, everyone seemed to be scared of the Orson Trewin they saw in the pictures, but they called him a different name, Anthony Edington. Apparently he had managed a butcher’s shop and been the leader of a drug gang there until 2013, when he had disappeared in the ocean in the same way as Malcom had, which made them suspect he had adopted another identity again, and ran away somewhere else. Seeing the year, that’s probably when he had become the Walt Iona, the hairdresser in Kensal Green, had met and slept with and the Walt who had raped Nora. Wherever Walt aka Orson Trewin was, it wasn’t in Aldeburgh.

“Someone had to help him fake his death, someone from the gang, close to him, someone Trewin trusts.” Robin said as the two women sat for a coffee near some gorgeous family houses with big gardens.

“Are you suggesting we infiltrate in his gang?” Kate asked raising an eyebrow. Robin blushed giving a nod and Kate laughed. “Corm will not like this...”

“But he is not here, isn’t he?” Robin raised an eyebrow drinking a sip of her coffee. Kate looked happy for the challenge.

“I’m really liking this bad side of you, Rob.” Kate laughed.

The two girls went then shopping and got some whorish clothes -Robin let Kate advice her, since she was much more of a prude than Kate when it came to dressing- with mini-skirts, high heels, incredible make-up, very stuffed push-up bras, loads of cleavage, and big ring like earrings. They hid their rings in their wallets and took some photos as they laughed having fun with the customizing in the bathroom of a hotel room they rented. They also made sure to have a bit of alcohol in, but only a bit, and since Robin was more known, Kate made sure her make-up was thicker, more exaggerated and that her hair and eyebrows were temporally dyed black with a cream that went away in the shower.

“Woah, Cormoran is going to flip.” Kate grinned proudly when Robin was done.

“I really don’t feel like myself,” Robin laughed, impressed looking at the mirror.

“Good! You should be feeling like Coco Denison.” Kate reminded her about the character they had invented for her, using the Scottish accent the character Kate played had. Robin nodded with a chuckle.

That night they went into an underground club that was hosting a party that they had found the gang Trewin had been a part of, was attending. The girls had a rape alarm, a pocket knife and a fake gun in small purses they had stored inside their jackets for protection, and divided once they were inside the party. They got themselves inside as pole dancers, which made Robin nervous. She had never danced sensually in her entire life, and she had a feeling Strike would get a heart attack if he saw her.

The party was attended mostly by men, women being reduced to their girls, the dancers or the waitresses. Music sounded loud as Robin nervously danced in the pool, trying to imitate the much more confident Kate nearby. After a couple dances they got down to let other dancers go and each went looking for some man who could speak a bit, now that everyone was a bit drunk and it smelled highly of weed and other drugs.

“Hi sweetie...” Robin said in her most outgoing way, with the Welsh accent she imagined her character, Coco, to have. She had approached a guy that looked really drunk and was certainly doing drugs, sitting laughing with other friends. She put her hands on her hips and smiled rubbing a hand up and down his thigh.

“Hey,” the guy, very young and somewhat handsome, smiled at her, eating her with the eyes and grabbing her ass. She tried not to grimace. “You’re really pretty...” Robin lap danced trying to push Cormoran out of her mind. “Why don’t we go somewhere more private?”

“Oh, honey...” Robin’s voice was sharper, the way she imagined Coco’s was. “For free? No way...”

“I’ll pay...” the guy said with a laugh, putting out the wallet. “I like girls who aren’t that easy to get...”

“I don’t want money though,” Robin thickened her Welsh accent. “I want information.” She winked playfully at him. The guy raised his eyebrows but seemed to like it, putting his wallet back in his pocket. The room was dark, only illuminated by colourful intermittent party lights.

“Alright, cool,” the man stood up, staring at her cleavage, “what do you want to know?”

“There’s this guy who owes me money,” Robin said putting a picture of Trewin out of her bra, sensually. “He belongs to your gang he said. He said his bestie had the money waiting for me, but I don’t know who he is and I can’t find good old Anthony.”

“Oh, Tony. He’s the boss girl... or was, before he vanished...” the guy was obviously very high and very drunk, and Robin let him kiss her neck pretending not to be very disgusted.

“Look...” Robin pushed him away, sensing he liked them fierce, and giggled playfully. “You tell me who knows him the most, his best friend, you know? So I can get my money back or find Tony. And when I finish my dances I’ll find you and reward your services.” She winked. The guy laughed and nodded.

“Alright...” the boy, who didn’t look sixteen even -making Robin feel worse- smiled charmingly and nodded. “His name is Lance Ross. He’s the boss now, by the way. Right there, that’s your guy.” He pointed to an older man, in his forties probably, who was bald, had a big moustache, big gray eyes and more golden teeth than real ones.

“Thank you honey, you’re one good boy.” Robin kissed him on the cheek and winked. “I’ll find you later...” the guy smiled blushing and gave a nod. Robin found Kate between the multitude. “I’ve got him, his best friend, Lance Ross. Right there, apparently he’s the boss now.” Robin pointed at him.

“Shit, that’s not going to be easy and it will be dangerous,” Kate frowned in concern.

“What do we do?” Robin asked.

“We’ll offer him a private lap dance of the both of us at once,” Kate said. “We’ll get him in a private room, and I’ll handcuff him being playful. Then, we remove his guns, lower his pants as if to give him a blowjob, and instead, interrogate him.”

“Sounds very easy and I doubt he won’t catch us faster...” Robin said insecure.

“I know, but we can do it alright? I’ll take the lead.” Kate grabbed her hand and walked to Lance Ross with determination. When he saw them, he told his mates to leave him alone and smiled at them with his golden tooth. “Hello honey!” she said with full Scottish accent. “My friend Coco heard you’re the boss here and we were told the boss should get a double lap dance.”

“Oh, that’d be nice...” the guy smiled and got up from his stool, following them to the private booths. Once there, Robin took him by the neck of the chair and kissed him open mouthed, trying not to throw up. She tasted smoke, drugs and alcohol. They didn’t give him two seconds to react, Kate was fast to forcefully grab his arms and handcuff him with the handcuffs she had gotten from her years as a SIB, pushing him into a chair. Robin kept kissing him, sitting on his lap and grinding on him, even if he tried to complain, and Kate used tape she had taken with her to tape his feet to the chair and also his arms and wrists, recovering her handcuffs. “Hey! Hey! Let me go! Who the fuck are you!” He started yelling angrily when Robin pulled apart, spitting aside in disgust as she took the guns Lance was carrying using some gloves she had brought specially for the occasion, as they had planed they’d have to do something like that.

“Fuck that was terrible,” Robin grimaced. Kate smiled apologetically and then punched Lance full force across the face without a second word. Lance and Robin looked at her, impressed and surprised and Kate smiled at Lance, caressing the cheek she had punched.

“Sorry sweetheart, we were told you liked it rough, did I hurt you baby?” she asked kissing his cheek.

“N-no, of course not, you’re a girl...” Lance was a proud male as they had presumed. Robin smiled and pulled down his pants, caressing his cock over the boxers. He seemed to forget to mistrust them. “Uh, I’d prefer not being tied, you know...”

“We’ll untie you, of course. But first you need to tell us something....” Kate locked the booth door and winked at him. “Your friend Tony owes us money, you know? He said you had it.”

“What?” Lance frowned. “Who the fuck are you?” Kate and Robin exchanged glances and with a charming smile, Robin approached Lance, and suddenly raised her heel and let it fall hard against his crotch. He yelled in pain and Kate made sure he was still properly tied with the adhesive tape.

“We’re cops,” Robin said with her Welsh accent. “And this here,” she added, pointing to the bags of drugs and guns she had gotten from him and that rested now on the floor, “is illegal possession of drugs and guns. A few years in prison, fifteen maybe, twenty. Now you can either tell us where the fuck Anthony Edington, Walt, or whoever the fuck he is, can be found, or we’re going to start ripping toes off you, because putting you in prison wouldn’t be fun enough.” Robin said coldly. Lance gulped.

“Fuck off...” Kate punched him again and his nose broke. “Fucking bitch!”

“That’s no way to treat a lady,” Kate said coldly. “Listen, you better speak because this bitch,” she pointed at Robin, “has done things on my face that make Donald Laing look like a puppy. Know who he is?” Lance nodded slowly.

“Was on the news...” Lance grumbled spitting the blood that was getting into his mouth. “Listen, Tony’s dead. He drowned at sea.”

“Did he, Lancey?” Robin said, her hand dangerously close to his crotch. “Or did he fake his death and you help him?” Lance, still hurting from the damage that had been done to his package before, went pale.

“Alright, alright! I helped him, fuck. He’s Walter now,” he revealed. “He said he’d go to Bexley, but I haven’t seen him ever since he left here, nor spoken with him.”

“Walter what?” Kate asked, her pocketknife opened as she moved it over his shoes raising his eyebrows. He went paler.

“Ludorf!” he yelled before Kate tried to stab his foot. “He had it all planned. He had raped some girls, police was after him and he wanted to run away, so he, he was my boss you know? He said, he’d go into a boat, I’ll grab mine and he’ll pass into mine once at sea. In mine, he changed and dyed his hair... as for the rest, he looks the same. Uses brown contacts now, but that’s all. I helped him invent a new identity, Walter Ludorf. I think he went to Bexley.” He sang like a canary.

“Good boy.” Robin smiled at him. Without a second word, both girls disappeared.

 

 

 


	56. There's worse than Charlotte

Robin and Kate arrived in London late that night. Robin left Kate at her house and drove the rest of the way to her own place, where Cormoran, according to his latest text, was grabbing some drinks with Nick and Ilsa. The kids had had a play date and were sleeping over.

“Hello,” Robin said cheerfully entering the house, still going as Coco. When she entered the sitting room, she had to laugh seeing the stupefied faces of Nick, Ilsa and Strike, who stood up slowly.

“Excuse me?” Strike asked.

“Pinch me,” Nick told Ilsa laughing.

“I had to go undercover,” Robin explained. “But all went good, I’ve got juicy news! First, let me take a shower and go back to me.” She ran back upstairs, showered quickly, retiring the dying, removed fake eyelashes and all the makeup, brushed her teeth twice, put her rings back and got into her comfortable pyjamas, back downstairs not without kissing the sleeping twins first. “I’m me!”

“Jesus Christ, I leave you alone with Kate one day and this is what happens,” Strike laughed standing to kiss her. Ilsa kissed her on the cheek and offered her a cup of wine. Robin chuckled seeing Ilsa’s pregnant belly and saluted Nick too. “So what happened?” Robin took a sip of wine and sat down with them.

“Well, Orson Trewin went to Aldeburgh, faked the death of Malcom and became Anthony Edington. Became a butcher and the lord of a drug gang, everyone feared him. Then, he raped some girls, police was after his ass,” Robin explained. “So he spoke with his second in charge, his friend Lance Ross. Ross has a boat, so Trewin just faked his death the same way he had faked Malcom’s, got a boat into the sea before a big storm, then got into Lance Ross’ boat. Everyone thought he died. But Ross told us that they planned together his new identity as Walter aka Walt, Ludorf. Ross thinks he lives in Bexley now, outside the City.”

“That’s bloody good job!” Strike smiled at her.

“Then you won’t get mad if I tell you Kate and I went undercover straight into a party of said gang,” Robin said carefully. “And then pretended to be Coco and Channel, two pole dancers. We had to do some sexual stuff around some guys and Ross to get the info, and also tie Ross to a chair, and punch the info out of him. He’s the new leader.” She said it fast, drank of her wine, and Nick broke into laughter, Ilsa put her hands on her mouth, laughing discreetly, and Strike looked at her in shock.

“What? What? You did what?” Strike asked.

“Kate is an impressive teacher, I’ve never danced like that ever. And never will,” Robin added. “I’m sorry Corm we needed the info...”

“I’m both disgusted and impressed,” Strike recognized drinking from his wine. “Did you...?” he raised an eyebrow.

“I touched a cock over the clothes, and I kicked one too.” Nick laughed louder.

“Jesus girl, you’re scary!”

“You should’ve seen Kate,” Robin said proudly. “Girl almost played Russian roulette there.”

“Yeah, I know.” Strike smiled proudly at her. “Well, really good job. You were fantastic. But are you sure they didn’t follow you?”

“We left Ross tied up,” Robin smiled proudly. “He’s a proud macho, doubt he’ll tell that two girls overpowered him. But we changed ways a few times, made sure we weren’t being followed.”

“So next is going to Bexley?” Strike asked.

“We’ll have to plan it out first, if he’s really there then we need a plan to catch him since we don’t have any real proof that he’s Trewin to arrest him. We’d need DNA.” Robin shrugged but nodded.

Charlotte’s birthday was on June 20 th . By then, they still hadn’t managed a good plan nor found any Walter Ludorf in Bexley, so they focused in the tons of work they had in the agency from other cases. That kept them from going to Charlotte’s party the 20 th , as much as they had become sort of friends, the three of them, over the weeks, but Strike offered to invite Charlotte out for drinks on the 21 st . Robin found herself actually enjoying the evening, at which Brian, Charlotte’s boyfriend, wasn’t present for having been feeling sick at home. Now that Charlotte was getting an adequate professional help, she had become sympathetic, more stable, and had a wicked sense of humour that Strike particularly enjoyed.

“...it’s an amazing designer, you’d really like his shoes, I’m telling you.” Charlotte was telling Robin, who was drunk and linking arms with her, as Strike and her walked her home, the he also too drunk to drive.

“I could never afford...” Robin replied.

“No, no,” Charlotte smiled kindly at her. “I’ll gift them for your birthday! October you said?”

“Right! But you don’t have to...”

“Girl, you have beautiful legs you’d rock them! I’m dying to see you with them.” Charlotte replied not giving it much importance. Robin blushed and giggled drunkenly.

“Thank you, you’re a sweetie...” Robin slurred. Charlotte laughed.

“Anything for you, love!” Charlotte said enthusiastically. Strike rolled his eyes at the two. Charlotte wasn’t drunk because she was taking antidepressants and other medication as to be less nuts and had quit alcohol.

“How in hell,” Strike started, “did my crazy ex-fiancée become besties with my normal wife?”

“Have you seen this face?” Charlotte playfully squeezed Robin’s cheeks into a pout. “She’s adorable!”

“I think he meant,” Robin laughed, “that you’re too crazy for me.”

“Crazy’s fun!” Charlotte laughed. Strike laughed at their camaraderie, walking near them with his hands in his coat.

“She’s not so bad when she’s all drugged up with her meds Cormey,” Robin said grabbing Strike’s hand and laughing drunkenly into his lips.

“Never call me that shit again please, love,” Strike smiled kissing her again.

They turned into a small street illuminated only by a couple streetlamps, brown houses with small gardens at both sides of the road. Robin and Charlotte continued to giggle and small talk, when Strike noticed two big trucks, black, driving by them. The first truck stopped crossing their path, on the crosswalk, and the first one did the same behind them.

“Hey! Robin, careful!” Strike yelled. Charlotte automatically shielded Robin, standing in front of her as three man in dark clothes and masks came out of each trunk, surrounding them.

“Help! Help!” Charlotte yelled.

Strike prepared his fists and punched the first guy that got near him. Robin quickly sobered up and did the same, Charlotte quickly joining. The three fought as hard as they could, but soon they were outnumbered. Charlotte broke a man’s lip, but he punched her on the abdomen making her bend down in pen, she knelt him on the balls, and he twisted her arms, Robin fought another guy, throwing punches but another guy joined and between the two, they had already made Robin’s lip bleed.

“Cormoran!” Robin screamed as a man with a bleeding nose managed to grip her from behind, another slapping her across the face to make her shut up. But Strike was fighting three men by himself. “Help! Corm!”

“Robin! Robin!” Strike yelled trying to get to her, but a good kick on his prosthesis threw him face down into the ground. A gun was pressed into his head and another of the men kicked him hard on the belly, making him yelp in pain.

“Let her go!” Charlotte tried to free Charlotte. “Corm, they’re taking your wife! Corm! Let her go, you jerks!” she punched one of the men who grabbed Charlotte so hard his cheek broke. He screamed in pain and turned suddenly, pulling a gun from his jacket and pointing to Charlotte. He pulled the trigger and with a loud ‘bam!’ Charlotte fell into the ground.

 

 

 


	57. I'm very upset

It was June 24 th , 2014. Cormoran sat on the last steps of the stairs of his house, the front door in front of him, his face grim, pale, his left eye purple and a bandage around his wrist, his knuckles bruised. His stubble had become a full beard grown after three days of not shaving, big dark bags under his eyes, his curls a complete mess. His eyes stared into the horizon, lost, and despite his elegant, dark suit, he looked unhealthy and miserable. The twins and Aria Herbert played nearby in the sitting room, on a puzzle carpet, surrounded by toys, blocks and toy cars. They were a colourful stain in a black room, since everyone in the crowded room wore dark clothes. After all, they had just arrived from Charlotte Campbell’s funeral.

As she tried to get Robin free from the men that had attacked them, one of the men had turned and shot Charlotte straight in the head. It had been a fast, sudden death. Then, the men who were hitting Strike had let him go and he had quickly tried to run after Robin, but he couldn’t without his prosthesis, that the men had kicked out of him, and the men, despite Robin’s yelling and punching, had forced her into the truck. Strike had dragged himself across the floor to try save Charlotte, but her face was barely recognizable, from the damage done by the bullet, and she had died instantly.

He had called police right away, but the Met hadn’t managed to identify the cars yet, nor had any clues. Press was surrounding their office, so they had to close it temporally and the Met had to put a couple uniforms in Strike’s street so the press would leave them alone. Strike had been taken into a hospital suffering from panic and they had had to give him tranquilizers for a couple days until he could assimilate the shock: Robin was nowhere to be seen, possibly dead or worse, and Charlotte was feet underground.

Lucy sat next to Strike and put a glass of whiskey in his hand.

“Take it,” Lucy offered. She had cried when Strike told her about Robin, and she still looked in distress, but playing tough to keep the family standing. Strike took the glass between his hands and took a long sip from it.

“I’m very upset, Luce,” Strike grumbled.

“I know sweetie, I know,” Lucy caressed his face and kissed him on the forehead. “Robin’s strong, she’ll be okay. I’m sure. Besides, if they had wanted her death, they would’ve killed her, not taken her.”

“Yeah...” Strike took another sip and nodded, breathing deeply. He knew he couldn’t afford himself to sulk any longer. Every minute lost was one minuter Robin was captive. He got up, leaving the glass aside, and walked to the sitting room, Lucy following close behind.

Greg and the children hadn’t come to the funeral, since their relationship with Charlotte was limited and someone had to babysit the boys. Lucy, Nick and Ilsa, along with Kate Fulton and her wife Grace, went with Strike there, and Robin’s parents, who had arrived to be closer to the investigation the minute they heard about Robin, had stayed at the Strike-Ellacott house, taking care of the twins with the help of Stephen and his wife Emily Ellacott, and brothers Jonathan and Martin Ellacott. Strike’s Uncle and Aunt had arrived the day before, and stayed with Lucy, while the Ellacott parents stayed with Strike and Robin’s brothers in hotels close by. Graham Hardacre, Strike and Kathleen Fulton’s friend, had come from Scotland to help figure things out, and Richard Anstis, who was their friend too, also came.

They all sat around the sitting room. The Ellacotts sat on the big sofa, their faces a mixture of shock, anger, sadness and deep concern, and the others grabbed chairs from the garden and the dining table and sat around. There was small talk, but a general vibe of tragedy. They all looked up when Strike opened the sitting room, letting himself in.

“End of sulking,” declared with a firm voice. “Kathleen,” he added looking at the ex-SIB, “we’re going to Bexley and getting my wife back. Linda, Michael, will you mind taking care of the twins for me while I’m out?” before the Ellacotts could agree, Kate argued.

“We can’t go to Bexley, we don’t have a plan, remember?”

“I do have a plan now,” Strike argued back, “we go there and ask around, and when we find someone from this gang, we punch the truth out of them until they say where they’ve got Robin.”

“Cormoran,” Kate tried to reason with him. The rest just sat quietly watching with curiosity. “I want to bring Robin home too, alright? But if we go there and start making questions, Trewin will take Robin and vanish again. He’s changed his name multiple times, we have nothing for the police to believe Walter Ludorf and Orson Trewin are the same person and Walter Ludorf doesn’t have a criminal record, or a record at all, as we have zero idea where he is. Robin couldn’t find him in all these weeks, we couldn’t either. So yeah, get your ass in Bexley, start raising the voice that we know he’s there and we’re looking for him, and before you blink, he will take Robin and vanish, and then Corm? Then we’re fucked. We can’t let desperation get to us, emotions cloud our mind, because then we’ll put a wrong foot and the prize will be Robin’s life.” She said firmly, standing up. “You can’t be objective and reasonable here. Your ex-fiancée’s dead and your wife could be too, so you’re going to have to obey me now.” Strike looked at her in silence for a few seconds in silence, and in the end, he nodded.

“What do you suggest then?” Strike asked.

“We think like SIB does,” Kate breathed deeply. “The Met is sick of us, they’re ignoring all we told them and won’t find Robin or will fuck up our investigation, so we’re going solo.”

“Yes,” Strike nodded, “yes, solo. Now, we need to find the assholes who attacked you guys, they won’t think we’re after them. Anstis, can we count on you?” she asked Richard Anstis, a Met.

“I’m in the Met, Kate.” He said, matter-of-fact. Kate rolled her eyes.

“Let me say it different... Are you going to help your friends find a good innocent civilian woman, your friend, Robin Ellacott, behind your bosses’ backs, or would you rather pass from us and focus on the Met investigation, that you know is useless? I’ll remind you that you owe her husband your life and two of your children,” Kate asked glaring at Anstis. He gulped and nodded.

“Count me in.”

“Then, get out and find us any camera footage that shows those trucks. Obviously, don’t let your bosses find out or we’re dead.” Kate ordered. Richard Anstis stood up and nodded.

“I’ll try my very best. Stay strong mate,” he added, squeezing Strike’s shoulder. He gave him a nod, and Anstis left.

“Now,” Kate looked at Graham Hardacre. “Hardy, we’re going to need some top quality equipment, we’re alone against a big group of assholes. You’re going to have to break a couple rules.” Hardacre smiled simply, standing up.

“No problem,” Hardacre nodded, “I’ll need a few days though, get back to Scotland and back.”

“We don’t have a few days, any minute we lose...” Strike started. Kate shut him up with one hand gesture.

“Perfect, Hardy,” Kate smiled at him. “Thanks mate...” Hardacre left right away.

“Kate...” Strike started.

“No,” Kate glared at him sternly. “Listen, you want to save Robin? Then we will, but you have to trust the fuck out of me, okay? I know every second we’re not running after her feels like a wasted minute and you think of what could’ve happened to her, but we’re walking a fine line here. I’m making the fastest, safest plan, and yes, it may cost Robin’s life, but if we hurry up it won’t be a ‘may’, it will be a ‘will’, okay?”

“I am your superior...” Strike started angrily.

“Then go,” Kate challenged him. “Go and get her killed. Have fun.” Strike looked at her for a few seconds and then nodded.

“Alright... we’ll do it as you say.” Strike grumbled.

“Promise,” Kate said. “Promise me you’ll shut up and do as you’re told even if it kills you, and I promise we’ll get her.”

“I promise.” Strike vowed to obey, he just wanted Robin back. As he said so, his fingers stroke Robin’s mobile in her pocket, since Robin’s purse had fallen during the fight.

Every day felt like hell to Strike. He went to bed and Robin wasn’t there and he cried himself to sleep, he wasn’t hungry as much as everyone tried to feed him, he snuggled with the twins in bed and tried to console them as they cried asking for Robin. Every minute he had to stop himself from thinking the hell Robin must’ve been going through. Kate and himself spend investigating hours and hours a day, well into the night, Hardacre and Anstis trying to find stuff out on their own. No matter how much they tried, they couldn’t find a Walter Ludorf in Bexley, and as much as the police spread pictures of Robin, no one had seen her.

“Didn’t you have a friend who was a journalist?” Kate asked him one day as they drank some pints while researching.

“Yeah, Dominic Culppeper. Lived from dragging the rich until the BBC got him and now he makes interviews with celebrities.” Strike grumbled. He looked as if he was dead inside, which is how he felt.

“Would be a good idea to give him an interview,” Kate suggested. Strike raised an eyebrow, “look, wherever Robin is, she might see you, you know? I bet Trewin has his eyes on the TV, to see if we mention him. And we could ask Culpepper to spread pictures of him, alert that he’s dangerous, or someone alike. That way, Trewin won’t dare to leave his nest in case someone recognises him, earn us more time.”

Thinking that it was actually not a bad idea, although still reluctantly, Strike called Culpepper, who conceded him an interview live for the BBC in the first week of July.

“We’re here with Private Detective Cormoran Strike to talk about the attack occurred in London past 21st of June,” Culpepper was saying, serious to the camera, “that cost the life of his ex-fiancée and socialite Charlotte Campbell, and the kidnapping of his wife, Private Detective Robin Ellacott, known for her involvement in the resolution of the Colin Thomas case, as well as many others like the Lula Landry case. We’re happy to have you Mr Strike.”

“Thanks...” Strike grumbled. He sat on the sofa trying not to look like shit, five pounds skinnier than what a healthy marriage had given him, his beard thick now, his eyes sad and tired. The suit didn’t do much to improve his looks. He had managed to avoid giving Culpepper interviews for years, and now there he was. Culpepper, however, had been oddly sympathetic and comprehensive with the situation, and treated him kindly.

“Mr Strike, what can you tell us about the attack, do you and your team have any investigation going on?”

“I’m working with some partners into a line of investigation parallel with the Met work. What happened to my wife and Ms Campbell has been a tragic consequence from investigating a rape case occurred in March in Kensal Green, so we believe, as we’ve let the Met know, that the same rapist from Kensal Green is after the death of Ms Campbell and my wife’s kidnapping,” Strike explained. “So far, my team is following that line of investigation, and we’re collaborating with the police in any way we can. Everyone’s priority is to bring Robin Ellacott home to her children and the rest of her family, who are patiently waiting.” He tried to sound calm and serene.

“So in your opinion, there’s a dangerous rapist free in London who’s powerful enough to hire people for things such as the attack occurred on the 21st?” Culpepper asked curious.

“Yes,” Strike nodded. “We believe he has an appearance very similar to the late Orson Trewin, according to many citizens that have recognized his picture across the streets, but we believe he could be basically anywhere in the United Kingdom. A picture of a facial reconstruction made by our witnesses in which his incredible resemblance to Trewin can be noticed, has been spread by the Met so we believe he won’t go take planes, get in ships or anything major like that. But he’s somewhere, he’s dangerous, and we’re going after him. He’s been identified under the name of Anthony Edington, but we’re certain is a false name and that he might appear with a different name.” He couldn’t reveal everything so Trewin felt they were still far from getting him.

“I see, then by what you say, I suppose that the attack was an attempt of getting you and Ms Ellacott away from trying to find him, and Ms Campbell’s death was just being in the wrong place in the wrong time, right?” Culppeper asked. Strike sighed, playing with the wedding band on her finger.

“I think so. I believe somehow the rapist thought we were close to catching him and sent people after us to stop us. Unfortunately, Ms Campbell was a friend and we had gone out to celebrate her birthday, that occurred the day before,” Strike felt a knot in his throat and he gulped it. He could still see it all if he closed his eyes. His purple eye, now much better, stung at the memory. “The attackers were six against us three, they were professionals, knew how to fight. I confronted three of them while Ms Campbell and my wife confronted the other three. My wife is a very good fighter, but it still wasn’t enough, and Ms Campbell had no fighting experience. Ms Campbell was shot in the forehead while she was trying to free my wife from the grasp of the attackers, that were already trying to get her into one of the trucks.” He said, eyes watery and voice hoarse. “Ms Campbell shouldn’t have died. She knew Ms Ellacott and mine’s children, soon to be two year old twins, and I imagine she was just thinking of keeping their mother safe when she jumped to protect my wife.”

He bit his lip and looked down, trying to keep himself together. Culpepper looked honestly sad, and sighed, shutting up for a few seconds.

“What an unfortunate tragedy,” Culpepper said then. “I’d like to remind our viewers then that we’re dealing with someone dangerous, someone who knows very dangerous people too. He’s a rapist, and everyone’s looking for him. Wherever he is, he’ll be found and arrested but until then, we need to walk extra safely, right Mr Strike?” Strike nodded.

“Yeah, certainly. Of course, no one wants to spread panic, is not about that. The streets of England are well watched by our outstanding security forces,” he lied, “and it’s very important not to panic, keep calm, because panic only clouds our minds and stops us from being reasonable and smart. But it never hurts to be extra careful, not to take unnecessary risks such as going alone at night through dark alleys, or places that aren’t very crowded, not get with questionable companies, carry rape alarms or pocket knives, not get close to people you don’t know when it’s already dark outside, not even if they ask for the time or for a fag.” Strike said as calmly as he could. “And if you see a man looking like this, call the police or myself. My agency is taking all phone calls, anything we receive is accepted, emails too. It doesn’t matter if you only know a little bit, it helps, really. The life of an innocent, good woman, is at risk every minute that passes and she’s not home.”

“Thank you very much Mr Strike,” Culpepper nodded towards him. “Now, if this man is watching, or Robin Ellacott, is there something you’d like to tell them, wherever they are?” Culpepper pointed to Strike’s camera. He breathed deeply and looked at his camera.

“To the rapist I’ll say, that I will find you, Sir. I won’t stop until I find you, like we found Colin Thomas, like we found Donald Laing, like we found Liz Tassel, Eric Wardle or John Bristow. I’ve dealt with people far worse than you and I will find you too, because I won’t rest until you’re in prison, where you should be. And if you hurt my wife in the slightest, I’ll put you through a hell far worse than the ‘ _garrote vil_ ’ until you’ll beg me to kill you.” He said serious, getting angrier with his words, glaring at the camera. Then he breathed down and looked at the camera with watery eyes and much more kindness into his eyes. “And to my Robin... love, we will find you, no matter how much it costs. Don’t give up, be the strong, brave, fighter you are. Be intelligent and smart, and don’t ever for a second doubt that you’ll be home soon. We love you and we miss you.”

“Well...” Culpepper said after a few seconds. Strike rubbed his eyes, but the camera was now focused on Culpepper, whose eyes were also watery. “Take care Robin, you’ll be home soon. This is all for tonight, please call us, police or Mr Strike’s agency in Knightsbridge if you’ve got any information on the whereabouts of Ms Ellacott.”

Strike got home late and drunk and found Nick and Ilsa snuggled up on the sofa, in their pyjamas, talking softly. They looked like they had cried, probably watching the interview, and ran to hug Strike as soon as they saw him enter the sitting room.

“We’ll find her okay? Don’t give up...” Ilsa said hoarsely hugging him tightly despite her big pregnant belly, pressing her lips against his cheek. Strike nodded against her shoulder, gulping a sob.

“I just hope the son of a bitch hasn’t touched her. That he doesn’t rape her again. Not again.” Strike grumbled with a broken voice.

“She’s a strong gal Oggy, she’ll break the dick of anyone who tries,” Nick reassured.

“Are the twins on my bed?” Strike asked pulling apart.

“Yeah,” Ilsa nodded. Strike liked to sleep with the twins now, it was the best way he could sleep and it left cribs free for Aria.

Strike went upstairs and while Nick and Ilsa headed for the guests room next to the nursery where Aria slept, he went to his bedroom and changed, getting into the bed in Robin’s side, next to the twins that slept with their little stuffed animals, putting an arm around them. It was incredible how much like Robin they were. He looked at Robin’s mobile background photo, of their wedding, Strike and Robin sitting with the twins on top, all four grinning to the camera, and he sniffled.

“Goodnight, my love. One night less to the day you come back home.” He whispered, putting the phone aside. He looked at the children and kissed them. “Mummy will be home soon,” he murmured. “Until then, I’m going to try to be a daddy good enough so you don’t have to think of her absence much. I miss her too.”

 

 

 


	58. When you feel like shit

In the end of July, Anstis sent Strike and Kate hours of security cameras’ footage he had sneaked behind his bosses’ backs. The Met were following a line of investigation focused on the possibility that an old enemy of Strike and Robin was after them which wasn’t that right, so Strike and Kate knew it was better not count on them. It took them days to revise all the security footage, because it was hours and hours from different cameras across London, but finally it had its result beginning August.

“There!” Strike froze the photo. “See that man? One of our attackers, the one who shoots Charlotte.”

“Yes...” Kate nodded. “I think it’s the guy Anstis said they hadn’t been able to find.”

“I know where he always is. I remember him, he’s at the pub Shanker frequents.”

That night, they went there. Shanker, who had also been trying to dig information about Robin, had confirmed he knew the guy and it was in ugly business, Shanker had heard he killed people for money. They found the man playing snooker, and didn’t realize they were there until one of them was at each side. He tried to run away, but Shanker, who stood close by, stood in the middle of the door.

“We’d like to have a word with you, dude,” Kate said smiling maliciously at their guy. They took him outside to an alley where Anstis met them, and Strike, who knew he’d punch him dead if he had the chance, stood at a distance from the guy, Shanker entertaining him while Anstis and Kate dealt with him, “you killed Charlotte Campbell, and we have it on camera.” The guy stood nervously between the two and the wall.

“Now, us in the Met may be a bit merciful with you if you give us information about the girl you kidnapped, Robin Ellacott.” Anstis showed him a picture. “See? Look at her, look really well. She’s only twenty-nine, she’s got two children waiting for her at home. Their second birthday is in just a few days, and their mother isn’t home. So start talking, because we’re running out of patience.”

The guy, broad, muscled up, and with an aggressive appearance, looked a bit mortified at them. Kate had identified as a soldier from the British Army, and Anstis, as a member of the NCA, so he had reasons to be mortified.

“Listen, I don’t know the girl okay? I swear. I’m hired to do nasty jobs. Someone calls, this dude, Donald Ahre. I never saw him.” He adds. “He calls and says dude, you gotta get me this girl, I’ll send you a pic. So a bunch of people he had hired and myself get together where he says, we had to get our own trucks, we rented them. Ahre said to shoot anyone who tried to prevent us from taking her, but only if they resisted a lot, if things got truly tricky. And this brunette,” he explained, “made things harsh, so I kill her. I didn’t mean to, but this is my job man!”

“We know you killed Charlotte already, aren’t you listening?” Kate grew impatient.

“About the redhead, the girl you took!” Anstis pressured. Shanker held Strike from intervening, keeping him at bay.

“Ah, the girl, dunno man...” the guy was nervous. Strike noticed he had a big cut on the forehead, already closed and just a faint scar. “We got her in the truck. I was offered twenty thousand quid for her, that’s a good bunch of money. He hasn’t paid yet, by the way... only five hundred, he said the rest later. And he’s the boss so we shut up. I ain’t know the other guys that attacked with me. We took redhead, put her into the truck. She was resisting a lot, so mate gives her this injection for her to fall asleep, nothing much, Ahre insisted he wanted her alive. Now, Ahre told us to leave the car in Foots Cray Meadows with her inside, get in the other truck to come back. Never saw the chick again.”

“You’re arrested for the murder of Charlotte Campbell, you’ve got the right to a lawyer...” Anstis handcuffed him while telling him his rights. Kate signalled for Anstis’ partner to come from the car and help him get the murderer into the car.

“But you said they’ll be merciful with me if I talked!” the arrested was yelling.

“You just confessed of bloody murdering an innocent girl of a powerful family who’s going to fry you, and you haven’t told us where Robin is. Not enough pal,” Anstis grumbled. “Strike, we’ll investigate, get to that car alright? Call you tonight!”

Later that night, Strike was called by Anstis. The truck had been stolen from a Bexley citizen and had been abandoned. They had tried to burn it, but a rainfall had prevented it from burning successfully, and they were able to find small blood stains that coincided with Robin’s DNA. Now the Met and Strike’s team both were after Donald Ahre, which Strike presumed was Walter Ludorf’s next identity.

Weeks later, someone from a gas station in Bexley called the Met, saying they had seen a picture of Robin and that he had seen her sleeping in the backseat of gray car back in June, while the driver, a citizen from Bexley named Yaxley Dorbout -as the Met found out- went to buy condoms in the gas station. Police raids Bexley looking for him and find him dead with a bullet in the forehead in a dark alley. They also look for Donald Ahre, but no one knows him. Instead, they identify him as Walter Ludorf and tell them where they live. When they get to Ludorf’s house, they see there’s a jacket in the basement that Strike identifies as Robin’s, along with blood stains of Robin and someone whose DNA coincides with Orson Trewin.

“Now you believe me, fuckers?” Strike yelled at a Met officer that went to his house to inform me. “Tell them to look for damn Donald Ahre, he’s no longer fucking Ludorf, he left that identity when he left Bexley!”

“Corm, calm down sweetie.” Ilsa had grabbed him from behind, softly pulling him back. Strike held Robin’s jacket, that the Met officer had brought, close to his face, covering the angry tears in his eyes.

“She’s hurt Ilsa!” Strike cried like a little children, finally crumbling. “She’s hurt, and bleeding, and alone and now he’s taken her God knows where! They’ve ran again because the Met fucked it, Ilsa!”

“I know Oggy, love, I know,” Ilsa hugged him tightly and looked apologetically at the officer. “Please, go... and try convince them to look after Ahre.”

Kate had been investigating with Strike in the house, and when she came from the bathroom, Ilsa and Nick told her what the officer had said. Kate sighed as Strike cried in Ilsa’s arms like a little child.

“I can’t lose her too, not her...” Strike breathed deeply trying to calm himself, feeling embarrassed, and rubbed his face angrily. “I can’t raise the twins without her. I can’t do this without her...”

“Calm down okay?” Kate looked kindly at him. “It’s going to be okay. We’re going to find her.”

“She’s already hurt, what if...”

“Don’t even think about it. She’s alive. We’d know if she wasn’t. If there’s blood, Trewin’s blood too, it’s because she kicked his ass, alright?” Kate smiled at him encouragingly and he nodded.

“Come on mate, have faith, Oggy.” Nick rubbed his back.

The birthday of the twins days prior, had been sad. Strike told Robin’s family not to come again, because there wouldn’t be party, and instead he took the twins to the park, just the three of them to get a bit out of the house and get some sun. He bought them a muffin with two candles that the three of them blew together, wishing for Robin to appear soon, and spent the whole day with them as a compensation for the lack of attention Strike had given them, due to the urgency of finding Robin. He took them to a spectacle for children, made them their favourite meals, and let them watch TV more hours than the normal, sang them to sleep, and cuddled with them.

Now, Strike thanked heavens that the children, after a crying fit asking where their mother was -it was getting harder and harder to keep their mind out of that- had just fallen asleep upstairs, because he didn’t want them to see him lose his shit. He had felt on the verge of a stroke for months now, the anguish of imagining terrible things happening to Robin, which wasn’t hard after the Lang case and all he had seen in life, getting the best of him, and he sat on the sofa with a hand on his chest breathing deeply. He had never, in his life, felt that kind of pain. It was like that feeling of panic and absolute anguish that one lived when they lost their parent in the supermarket as little kids, or when you tried to prevent someone from getting ran over, but instead of lasting a few minutes, it lasted weeks, months, and killed him from inside. He opened the mail praying not to find Robin’s fingers, he held onto her clothes smelling her praying she was still alive and not rotting in some dumpster, he even did the actual activity of going to church and praying all heavens that if she was killed, it was quick and she didn’t suffer. As much as he tried to keep his mind from going to dark places and keep thinking straight and finding a way to get Robin back, he found himself getting antidepressants sooner than clues about Robin.

By the time September came, he weighted only about 143 pounds, which meant he had lost over thirty pounds, as much as everyone tried to push food into his mouth. His shirts were too big, his belts, to the last hole, his beard big and thick, and his hair long enough to cover half his neck now. He looked sick and pale and his eyes didn’t shine anymore, no one remembered having seen him so bad ever, not even when Leda had been killed. A part of him, like back in that day, felt guilty too. Besides, the stress made him throw up, white hair had started showing, a couple panic attacks more followed, and the antidepressants made him zombie. It wasn’t just about Robin anymore, he also felt guilty and broken for Charlotte, and for the children he felt like he was being negligent with.

“Eat that Corm, please,” Lucy begged next to him. Strike had eaten half a steak, when he’d normally eat two or three, and looked at it as if he was about to throw up the half he had eaten. “Robin will kill us if when she comes back she finds you like this.” She added with a little smile. Strike sighed. Lucy missed his dark jokes, which was something she never thought she’d think.

In an attempt to watch over Strike and the twins better, after the third time Strike ended up in the A&E with a panic attack, Lucy spent most of her time at his house, which only made Strike feel guiltier because it meant she was being negligent with her own children, in his mind, but he said nothing. Ted and Joan came to live with Strike, causing him the same guilty feelings although at the same time, he appreciated having meals cooked for the three of them and that he only had to sit and play with the twins, who didn’t seem to mind much their father’s change of appearance. He supposed the most important thing was to be a good father, and if in order to do that he needed to let people care for them he would. So he accepted his family there, and Kate taking the lead of the investigation only coming to the house a couple times a day to check and review things with him, he accepted Ilsa and Nick being there constantly now that Ilsa was on maternal leave and Nick on paternal leave, since the baby would be born in only a month or two, he even accepted when Lucy arranged for Mr and Ms Ellacott to come back again. The Ellacotts, in all honesty, felt much better there, where they were with their grandchildren -they had just gotten a new one from Stephen and Emily, little Haley- and who they considered a son, and close to the action in case Robin came back. Even Matthew passed by a few times every once in a while to entertain Strike, watching Arsenal games with him.

“I feel sick,” Strike murmured, rubbing his tired eyes. He always had nightmares about Robin when he went to sleep. Lucy put an arm around his shoulders and kissed his temple. They were having dinner together in honour of Robin’s birthday on October 9th.

“Want to take a nap sweetie?” Joan suggested. “Maybe you’ll feel better then?”

“I can’t sleep. Dream nasty of her.” Strike said, not feeling the energy to muster many words either.

“Well, you don’t have gastroenteritis, so you should try to eat more and restore your sugar levels. You’ll feel better then, guaranteed,” Nick tried to convince him.

“Daddy!” Sophie yelled from upstairs. “Daddy!”

“Coming!” Strike got up and walked as fast as his prosthesis let him, but Sophie had already ran downstairs and collided with Strike’s legs when he had barely just left the table.

“Up, up!” Sophie demanded. Strike, who couldn’t say no to his princess, scooped her up and, feeling dizzy, sat back on his seat. Sophie enjoyed being between people, while Daniel could play alone in his bedroom for hours. Well, he was playing with Aria now, though. So the little girl snuggled with her little bunny on her father’s lap, and he enveloped her with the remains of his big body.

“You wanted cuddles, love?” Strike asked her. Sophie nodded grabbing his bead, her big cheek on his shoulder.

“Mummy home soon?” Sophie asked her. Strike had run out of excuses after three months.

“Hopefully yes, love. I miss her too,” Strike had found out that the best way to keep them from being angry at him, like it usually happened, was just showing them he had nothing to do with her disappearance and missed her as much as they did.

“Where’s mummy?” Sophie asked, as unstoppable as her mother.

“I don’t know,” Strike sighed, rubbing her cheeks. “Do you remember when we lost your bunny, and took us days to find it? It got lost and was under the sofa in the end, remember?” the girl nodded, holding her bunny tighter. “Well, mummy got lost too, you see? We don’t know who she is. But, there’s a lot of people and all of us trying to find her, and soon, she’ll be back home.”

“Mummy lost...” Sophie looked sad now and Strike cursed inside.

“Yes, but,” Strike thought quickly. “Adults get lost all the time, we’re very dummy. And your mummy always had a great sense of orientation, if someone knows how to find her way back is her. We just have to be patient.” Sophie nodded, not sure if she understood, and suddenly she grabbed Strike’s beard and kissed him on the mouth, just an innocent peek. Strike pulled apart quickly, surprised. “Sweetie, kids don’t kiss on the mouth, love. We kiss on the cheek, remember?”

“Mummy kisses you mouth,” Sophie explained innocently. “I kiss for her.” Strike smiled tearfully and squeezed her hug.

“You’re right burrito, mummy kisses me on the mouth. Thank you.” Strike closed his eyes hugging her tightly.

“I play again,” Sophie requested, and Strike put her back on the floor. For such a tiny child, she ran fast as hell. Strike still remembered her first steps as if it had been yesterday, as precocious as six month old -Daniel had been only crawling until he was eleven months old- walking two steps from Robin to him, in her diapers.

“She’s so cute...” Martin commented. Ever since his sister vanished, he didn’t have his bad jokes anymore.

“Come on, finish your steak,” Ilsa made a sniffling sound and pushed Strike’s plate towards him. Strike got a tiny piece into his mouth and munched slowly.

“I gotta pee...” Strike got up, heading slowly for the bathroom by the stairs. He was just making his way back into the sitting room when the room blurred, and he fainted with a thud.

 

 

 


	59. I knew you'd find me

“Christ, Corm!” Nick rushed to him, rolling him face up. For his relief, Strike was already waking up and groaning, his face even paler and sweating cold. “Hey, Oggy!” he slapped his face softly.

“Stop...” Strike groaned. Lucy came rushing with a damp cloth that Nick pressed against his forehead while taking his neck pulse with two fingers. Ilsa wanted to go too, but her belly wouldn’t let her kneel.

“This, my friend,” Nick said patiently. “Is called not eating enough. You’re too big for your poor weight, and this is your body yelling at you that it doesn’t have the right amount of food to feed the brain and keep it working. Now, if you continue like this, I’ll have to have you be my patient in the hospital and feed you through a tube down your nose. Want me to do that, or are you going to eat the damn steak?” he said just as calmly. Strike, who was blinking now and resisting the urge to puke on him -because that was another funny thing, when he managed to eat, his stomach managed to puke it- realized it was the same tone Nick used on Aria when she did something wrong.

“Steak...” Strike slurred.

“Well saved.” Nick smiled at him.

“Is he okay?” Lucy asked anxiously.

“Yeah, don’t worry. Low sugar, he’s not about to have a stroke.” Nick shrugged calmly, put his arms under Strike’s armpits and easily lift him up, letting Strike use him for support. “Now calmly, we’re gonna sit down, and we’re gonna eat that steak alright? Joan, could you please see if there’s juice?” He helped Strike sit down, and the ex-SIB leant back, blinking at the ceiling. His hands were clammy and Robin would totally kill him. Joan brought a glass of juice and Nick patiently helped him drink it all. “Better?”

“Yes, although...” Strike rubbed his forehead. “The floor’s damn tough.” Nick chuckled. “I’m sorry,” he slurred. “I’ll eat that now, I just feel like I’m gonna throw up after I eat a bit...”

“That’s because the stomach is a muscle,” Nick explained. “You got it used to getting less, so it shrunk for the little that got, and now you’ve got to slowly, carefully and steadily get it used to more so it gets bigger enough for all you need to eat. When you feel like puking, stop for a bit but then keep going.”

In all their years of friendship, Strike had never needed Nick’s medical advice, and now he felt both ashamed and grateful to have it. He swore to himself not to faint again, and cut himself a piece of steak more. He was just finishing his steak, not paying attention to the conversation going on in the table, as he was focused on keeping the damn steak down, when his mobile rang and he took it quickly.

“Cormoran Strike,” Strike answered automatically.

“Corm!” it was Kate. “I think I know where she is!” Strike’s heart jumped.

“Where?” he asked anxiously.

“There’s a woman in Uplees, a hamlet of Faversham, who saw the photo the police spread of the car where Robin was seen,” Kate said quickly. “She called us instead of the Met, says her neighbour had the exact car and guess the name.”

“Douglas Ahre.” Strike breathed out.

“Bingo!” he could hear Kate’s happiness. “I’m coming to get you, Hardacre’s with me. We’re passing from the Met because they’ll scare him off again. We’re almost there, get ready and pack a bag with a change of clothes for Robin or something.”

“Yes! Jesus Christ Kate I adore you.” Strike hung up and stood up quickly. “Kate knows where Robin is, we’re running to get her.” He ran upstairs with renewed energy, leaving the family downstairs stupefied, and grabbed a hodall, throwing in some of Robin’s most comfortable clothes: a gym bra, clean panties, pads -just in case she had gotten her period and all-, a comfy shirt, a big jumper that she stole from him, her coat, leggings, socks, and some tennis shorts, a hairbrush, a hair band, a toothbrush and some toothpaste. He could only imagine how dirty she must feel after close to four months captive. He couldn’t help but smile with his heart beating strongly as he heard Kate’s voice downstairs and ran downstairs. “I’m ready!”

Kate smiled at him as he entered the sitting room and handed him a bag.

“Not quite yet,” Kate said. “Sergeant, Hardy got us some SIB stuff. Camouflage uniform, with bulletproof vest, and combat boots. Hardy insisted he’d be the armed ones.” She rolled her eyes. Strike grinned and nodded, handing her the hodall and taking the bag, changing right there just putting the vest and military jacket over his shirt, and removing his pants not caring about who watched, quickly throwing on the military pants and sitting on the sofa to put the boots.

“Shouldn’t the Met be involved?” Lucy asked. “Hardy’s gonna get in trouble.”

“Totally worth it,” Hardacre smiled. “We’re getting Rob! They’ll forgive me. And the Met will ruin the fun, scare the asshole away. He won’t see the SIB coming. Damn awesome reunion.”

“This is too dangerous...” Lucy continued.

“Luce,” Strike turned to look at his sister, putting his pocket knife in a chest pocket. “We are two ex-SIB and an actual SIB. I was a sergeant like three minutes ago. We’ve seen way worse, it’ll be all good.”

“Let’s go, I don’t want to make our Rob wait much and there’s quite the drive to Uplees.” Kate rushed.

Strike ran to kiss the kids and Lucy and then ran back to the car, as quickly as possible for his leg. He could only think of Robin now. The drive to Uplees lasted a bit over a long hour, through the dark streets of London. It had started to rain softly by the time they got out of the black SUV Kate owned, parking in front of the address where Donald Ahre aka Orson Trewin, had last lived. They knocked on the door of the house.

“Mr Ahre? It’s Hardy, open up please!” Hardacre yelled.

“The car is not here anymore,” Strike observed. “And the house seems empty. He must’ve left.” Strike sighed in disappointment.

“Move,” Kate told Hardacre. When he moved aside, Kate palmed the door, seeing it was an old wooden door of a very small old farm house, and she easily kicked the door down.

“Jesus Christ Kate,” Hardacre laughed, putting his AK-47 pointing inside. “We’re coming in and we’re armed Mr Ahre!” he announced before going in first. Kate entered behind him, turning the light on.

They spent twenty minutes registering the tiny house, that was empty. Strike found Robin’s scarf in the bathroom, still smelling like her.

“She left this for me. It’s a clue,” Strike said going back to the other two, that looked at him.

“Well the house’s empty, even the closets. Ahre must’ve run pretty fast. Hardy found a permit of boat ownership, a small utility boat,” Kate commented. “It’s in the port here. I’ve got a feeling he’s there, so we’re going.”

“Of course,” Strike frowned. “He’s going to do what always. Fake his death in the ocean. That’s how he became Anthony and it’s how he became Walter. He probably became Donald in a rush, is going to do things formally now.”

“That means he’s going to get rid of Robin now. We must go, might be our only chance.” Hardacre hurried them back to the SUV and Kate broke several speed laws but soon they were in the port. Hardacre got the security of the port to open up for them. “Has this man come here recently?” he asked showing a picture of Trewin. The rain was stronger now and the ocean was roaring in the dark.

“Someone alike, yeah. Donald Ahre.” The officer said. “Came with a chick but could barely see her in the dark, with this rain. They were here like twenty minutes ago, got into Ahre’s utility boat.”

“We need your boat, we’re after him, he’s kidnapped that girl.” Hardacre hurried.

The security officer led them into his runabout boat and soon, they were in the ocean, illuminating it with big flashlights the runabout had.

“There!” Strike said suddenly, pointing at a point of light in the darkness, the rain colliding with his face, the angry ocean trying to drown them.

There, in the middle of the darkness, the figure of a utility boat appeared, illuminated by the lights from the security runabout and a small lamp hanging from a post in the utility boat. They distinguished the figures of Robin and Orson Trewin, fighting as if their life depended on it. Strike felt both immense relief and immense worry. Using a megaphone, the officer said:

“Donald Ahre, hands behind your back! This is port security, leave that girl alone!” Trewin raised a knife and would’ve stabbed Robin if it wasn’t for Hardacre’s impeccable aim, shooting him right on the forehead. It was ironic that Trewin would finally come to die in the ocean, the third time being a charm. Then, a big wave fell over the small utility boat, sinking it.

“Robin! Robin!” Strike roared. “Robin!” he yelled with all his strength, time and time again. The officer directed the flashlights to the ocean and Hardacre prepared to jump, grabbing a lifejacket. Suddenly in the darkness, Robin’s head emerged from the ocean, eyes blinded by the light. Hardacre jumped after her after tying a robe the officer gave him to the hips, swam to Robin and she held onto the life jacket.

Soon, Strike and Kate were helping them onto the boat and the officer accelerated back to port.

“Robin, it’s me, Corm!” Strike sobbed out, grabbing Robin’s arm helping her be lifted onto the boat. Robin looked up at him as she landed on the boat and sniffled.

“Corm? Corm?” Robin put her hands on his face, as if not believing it, and Strike laughed and cried at the same time. “You grew a beard!” Robin cried, half laughing.

“I’m still me, my love,” Strike wrapped his arms around her and she hugged him, crying loudly.

**. . .**

In half an hour, they were in the nearest hospital, between Uplees and London, and Robin got checked up. Aside from a small fracture in her left radius that only needed a cast, a few big bruises and scratches, and a broken lip, she was pretty alright. Robin confessed she had been raped once only, in the first days she was gone, but the doctor confirmed she wasn’t pregnant and she didn’t need surgical intervention, that everything was pretty good. Robin had lost a lot of weight, like Strike, and was really skinny. Neither of them looked very healthy, but they feed her dinner at the hospital, Strike gave her clean clothes putting the dirty ones in the hodall, and Robin could brush her hair and her teeth before they got back in the car to continue to London, that wasn’t very far anymore.

Robin quickly fell asleep snuggled in Strike’s arms. They both were emotionally exhausted but Strike refused to fall asleep just yet, knowing they were close to home, and phoned Lucy. It was eleven at night then.

“Hi Luce,” he said happily. “Guess who’s sleeping in my arms?”

“Oh my God, Robin!” Lucy yelled. “Robin’s safe, you’ve got her!” Strike laughed.

“We’re arriving to London. Robin already got dinner and checked out in a hospital, she’s fine. Well, she lost as much weight as myself and is covered in bruises and scratches, her forehead’s a bit purple, and she has a tiny radius fracture on a cast, so prepare the Ellacotts for that,” Strike announced happily.

“They heard, I put you on speaker!” Lucy announced cheerful. Strike laughed sincerely for the first time in almost four months.

“Robin, I want you to head to my bathroom,” Strike said. “Prepare a really, really warm bath, okay? There are mineral salts in the cabinet, and some candles that smell really good. Robin’s taking a nap now, but she got thrown into the ocean and she’s going to need a warm bath. Plus, she hasn’t showered in four months, dirty little bird.” Strike joked.

“On it!” Lucy announced.

“Anything else Corm, love?” a crying Linda asked.

“Yes,” Strike answered. “Robin’s okay Linda. She’s genuinely okay. Drained, but she said she couldn’t wait to see everyone, she’s dying to see all of you okay? So just wait, we’re half an hour away only.”

“Thank you Corm,” said an emotional Michael. “And thank the others too, you guys... this is unbelievable.”

Strike smiled and looked down and Robin, her lip bruised, a small cut over her left eyebrow, long, wavy hair and bags under her now way thinner face, and still, so beautiful, much more than how his memory, once again, remembered her. It truly was unbelievable.

They left Hardacre at Scotland Yard so he could explain for them, and then Kate drove them to Hackney. Kate had called Grace so she would be there too, along with everyone else, for Robin’s warm birthday welcome and after a small nap, Robin woke up wide alert and her heart pumping in excitement. Her eyes were already teary with the prospect of seeing her children after 110 days of capture.

“The twins are sleeping,” Strike whispered kissing Robin’s cheek as they got out of the car. The rain had stopped by then. “But you can go upstairs and see them later, uh? And Lucy prepared you a bath in our bathroom.” Robin smiled grateful.

“Thank you, love. I knew you’d find me.” Robin stopped to kiss him deeply on the lips and they interlaced their fingers as the door opened wide and Linda Ellacott ran to Robin’s arms. Mother and daughter cried and laughed as they hugged as tightly as they could, Michael running to hug his girls.

**. . .**

A long while later Robin had bathed with Strike, changed into her pyjamas, cried over her children’s sleeping forms and now she snuggled into Strike’s arms on the sofa as she finished a big mug of warm chocolate that Joan had prepared. As exhausted as everyone undoubtedly was, nearing midnight, the miracle of staring at Robin kept them wide awake, all sat in the sitting room finally happy. Strike felt like he was breathing for the first time, his eyes closed as he hugged Robin close like the children hugged their stuffed animals.

“Mummy?” Daniel had opened the sitting room door, followed by Sophie. The two children must’ve heard the commotion and gotten out of their parents’ bed, both looking curious and wide awake. Their eyes landed on Robin, and Strike opened his. He saw it like slow motion, the precise moment in which the twins realized they weren’t dreaming, that Robin was really there, and ran at a speed not common in two year olds, yelling for their mother. Robin barely had time to leave the mug on the coffee table before the children jumped on them and held onto her for dear life. Strike didn’t know who was crying harder if the children, Robin or himself, but he just hugged the three of them tightly, hoping that it truly wasn’t a dream.

They hugged for a long time and when they finally pulled apart just a little, the twins couldn’t stop staring at Robin, touching her cheeks and laughing, as if they couldn’t quite believe it.

“Daddy look!” They kept saying, looking at Strike and then Robin, who laughed and cried at the same time, keeping her arms around them.

“Oh fuck,” Robin sobbed. “You’ve gotten so big, the both of you! Dear God, you’re two now and all!”

“By the way,” Strike commented casually as she hugged the kids again, and smiled at her, widely. “Happy birthday Robin.” Robin looked at him and grinned.

 

 

 


	60. Together despite it all

Waking up in the morning with Robin and the twins in his arms was a surreal, out of this world, experience for Strike. He kept looking at them and smiling, not daring to move in case any of them would wake up. During the next couple days, they fell into a comfortable routine, staying home, only going to the park or pretty places Robin had missed, never leaving the children. On October 16 th , Robert Cormoran Herbert was born, named after his godparents, obviously, but changing into Robert a little because as they said ‘we already have  _the_ Robin’. He was a handsome little brunette looking a lot like his two year old sister Aria, and Ilsa and Nick were very joyful with his arrival. It was that day also that the Ellacotts finally accepted to go home, along with Strike’s family, with promises of going to Cornwall by Strike’s birthday on November, and to Masham for Christmas. Kate wrapped up the latest cases they had pending and they decided to take the rest of the year off and close for the holidays, having gotten plenty of savings to keep going without any anxiety.

The day after Robbie’s birth, the twins were put in their cribs for a nap and Strike and Robin snuggled contentedly in their bed, still struggling with not touching each other.

“I’m sorry about Charlotte,” Robin said suddenly, her face against Strike’s chest as he played with her hair, softly. Strike nodded.

“Me too... at least... it was fast.” Strike had already told Robin everything she had missed and how they had investigated it all. Robin had only told what had happened to Anstis and Hardacre for the paperwork and in private, and Strike was in no hurry to hear himself. He had just shaven that day, finally, even though Robin admitted to like his beard.

“When I was taken,” Robin started with a soft voice, drawing circles slowly on Strike’s belly. “I woke up in a black truck in the middle of nowhere. The driver took me into another car, a gray one that drove some dude named Yaxley, the guy that was seen at the gas station. They took me to the house Trewin had in Bexley. There I found out that he had no idea of my job nor that you were my husband, and he...” she breathed deeply. “He raped me. I broke his nose during that, I made sure to punch hard. He soon realized I wasn’t going to put it easy on him.” Strike nodded slowly.

“I’m proud of you, love.” Strike kissed her forehead. He had never been one to use pet names much nor say I love you, but with Robin, it all changed, and even more now.

“Then I told him who you were, and that you were my husband, that you’d find me. I told him all I knew about him, told him you knew too, and so did our agency and several SIB friends. He Googled you and saw, and then I think he got scared,” Robin said. “He had never killed anyone, even though he almost killed a lot of people like me. His life was doing drugs and raping girls and then he saw he had messed with a family of sharks,” she chuckled and Strike smiled kissing her forehead again. “He got really scared. Thought you’d kill him, that the SIB would ruin his life, his business, all he had ‘achieved’. He realised having me meant they’d go after me, but letting me go meant I’d go singing and they’d go after him, and he also couldn’t kill me because them, you would torture him. He saw the interview with Culpepper and I heard it from his basement. He was so lost and so coward, that he decided no one could touch me or harm me, that he’d come up with an idea. His idea was disappearing. But during summer, there weren’t storms for him to do the boat thing, so he waited, and waited. When he heard from his gang that you knew he was Walter, and he saw police around Bexley, he took me and ran to Uplees, locked me in the basement. We fought when I realized he was going to take me away and kill me in the ocean, so they’d never find me and relate him with me, that’s when he broke my arm. I knew you were close then, I just had to win you some time.”

“Brilliant, as always.” Strike wrapped her tighter in her arms and she smiled finding comfort in him.

“I fought with him on the boat. He was trying to cut me and sink me, but I felt you close,” Robin told him. “The rest is history.”

“I’m so proud of you, Robin. You’re the strongest, most badass woman I’ve ever known, and I’m glad we can all look up to you,” Strike said honestly, caressing her cheek with emotion in his eyes. “I love you so much, and these past 110 days have been absolute hell. I legit thought I’d die. I fainted, several times, from lack of proper nutrition, and then I couldn’t eat without throwing up, I got antidepressants, I had panic attacks going into the hospital several times...” Robin frowned in concern and Strike breathed deeply. “Please never leave me because I’ll die.”

“Oh, baby...” it was Robin’s turn to wrap him in her arms, squeezing him tightly. “Oh love, my sweet, sweet man...” she pulled apart and kissed him. “We’ll together now okay? We’re together. And Trewin’s dead, and we’re together.”

“We’re together.” Strike chuckled at her. Robin and him stared at each other for a while and then Robin breathed deeply.

“I’ve been feeling a bit dirty since Trewin...” Robin shrugged. “I want you to make me yours, Corm. To be loved by you and only you again, for you to erase any mark that he ever touched me.” Strike locked eyes with hers, both filled with emotion, and nodded slowly.

He softly laid Robin in bed, nude, and used massage oils to massage her back and legs and feet softly, making her close her eyes. Then, he massaged her front, his lips putting feather kisses all over her body, her hands touching her with extreme delicacy, softness and love. He got rid of his clothes and laid on top of her, using his arms as to not squash her, as they made out slowly, their lips dancing together tenderly and without hurry. Robin moaned as Strike’s feather kisses covered her face, her neck, and travelled down her breasts, softly nibbling her nipples, caressing her soft breasts as if they were fragile jewels, his big hands moving up and down her arms as she moaned and his hands finally rubbed her nipples softly.

“Ah, oh Corm...” Robin sighed. Strike would go back up to kiss her, and she loved the delicious way in which she felt his entire body pressed so tenderly against hers. Then, Strike’s lips travelled lower as his hands played with her breasts, and Robin separated her legs, giving Strike’s lips room to kiss and ghost over her vulva, nibbling and sucking her clit lovingly. He was rock hard, but he ignored it, devoting to her and the fascinating way in which she’d moan, her eyes screwed shut and her back arching from the bed. Strike covered his hands in lube and used one finger to part her lower lips, sucking her clit as his finger moved up and down her slit, to finally press softly inside, making Robin moan harder and raspier, grabbing a fistful of his hair and pressing him harder against her.

Soon, one finger was joined by two, entering her softly, then going out, getting more lube, sliding back in again. By then, Robin’s moans were steadily growing, her breasts rising as her back arched, her nipples pointing to the ceiling, erect. Strike moved his lips hungrily to those breasts, showering them in attention as now three fingers plunged steadily into Robin, forming a constant rhythm until Robin came, squeezing her fingers tightly as her mouth opened in a soundless ‘o’, her back raising from the mattress and her legs shaking. Then Robin moved him so she could touch his long, thick member, bringing it to her mouth. Strike didn’t want her to do it, but she insisted and soon, she had him on the verge of coming, but instead of that, she let him slip out of her mouth and rolled them to be on top. She straddled him with her eyes full of desire and positioned the tip of his member at her tight entrance, pressing slowly. Strike helped her putting his hands on her fingers, and she slowly took him in, moaning thoroughly when he bottomed out. She let herself fall forward, kissing him, her hands playing with his nipples too, way smaller in his plain chest, and she slowly moved her hips against him, moaning steadily. Strike kept his hands on her ass cheeks, moving his hips to meet hers, until finally, they both came with a shudder, him emptying into her.

Robin woke up entangled to Strike in the morning. After their fourth round, he had started kissing her neck vaguely and sloppy and she had started drifting off to sleep, his snores not being far behind. She felt the ticklish breath of her husband against her neck, his warm chest pressed against hers. It was all so calm and relaxed and then —

“Shit,” Robin murmured, hearing the kids crying. As if magically, Strike’s snores suddenly interrupted and he looked up sleepily, making her giggle at his confused face.

“What?” Strike grumbled.

“The kids,” Robin kissed him on the lips and he moaned against her lips. She smiled sympathetically and pushed him aside palming softly on the side of his torso. “Move, I’ll go,” With a grunt, Strike rolled off her and Robin got up, throwing her housecoat on her while quickly walking to the room next door, where the two cribs stood together, one weeping, shouting child standing in each. But the tears immediately stopped when they saw Robin, who rolled her eyes at the ease with which they manipulated them. “Good morning, what’s the matter?” She got Daniel first, knowing his sister had awoken him and he was actually upset, and then took crocodile-tears-Sophie with the other arm, kissing both of them as they snuggled against her.

Robin checked the hour on the little wall clock that was in the nursery, seeing it was just nine in the morning. The kids would most likely be hungry, they had overslept despite it still being too early for most normal people.

“Bottie,” Sophie said as if reading her mind. Robin understood she meant ‘bottle’ for the baby bottle they usually drank sleepily on the sofa during the mornings, and smiled kissing her forehead.

“Right, let’s go give you the bottle,” Robin scooped them closer and walked the small carpeted corridor to the stairs, whose soft carpet was nice for her barefoot feet, and then to the kitchen. She put each kid in their high chair. “Wait there alright? Mummy has to make the bottles.” Robin moved to grab some toys from a little toy trunk they had by the sofa, and gave one toy to each kid to keep themselves entertained while she cooked.

“Daddy?” asked Daniel after a while, when Robin handed him the bottle. He looked worried and Robin frowned. Were the kids now going to be stressed every time they didn’t have both parents in sight? Were they traumatized or something?”

“Daddy will be down soon, he’s still in bed,” Robin resolved to try calm him down and smiled at him warmly, leaning to kiss his chubby cheek, which made him giggle, more relaxed. Robin wondered silently how long her husband would take to come downstairs, because she was absolutely nude under her housecoat, that she tied tighter as she looked impatiently at the sitting room’s open door, and she had an uncomfortable sensation between the legs as a product of the latest orgasm, that she hadn’t cleaned before she fell asleep.

She was too thin, that was obvious for her, as she absentmindedly passed her fingers through Sophie’s hair and noticed the bone of her wrist pocking, her other arm in a cast. And as she had finished confirming last night, Strike must’ve lost at least twenty pounds, if not more, judging by the way she had seen his ribs mark. The past hundred and ten days really had shaken them over, not to mention Charlotte’s murder, that she had suspected when it had occurred but was taken too fast to really make sure she was dead, and now Strike had confirmed the news to her. But looking at the toddlers, at least they seemed all good. Bigger than she remembered them, but still pretty chubby, still energetic, still happy. Sophie’s hair had grown a little and gotten curlier, like her father’s, and there was a reddish brightness in her hair, that was light brown but definitely looking slightly Robin’s colour sometimes, depending on the light. Daniel’s hair colour was same as his sister’s. They had their little bunch of small white teeth, their same chubby-pinkish cheeks, their big eyes closing as they drifted back to sleep, drugged by the bottles.

“Morning,” Strike made his way into the kitchen, having showered and dressed in an impressive speed, his curls brushed back. He needed a haircut and his clothes were too big and was that a belt in the last hole? Robin analysed her husband as he came to kiss her.

“Morning,” she smiled against his lips, burying her fingers in his hair. Strike turned to look at the kids, passed out while still holding their bottles with their chubby little hands, their mouth still on the bottles, and he chuckled.

“Passed out, uh?” Strike passed a big hairy hand over Sophie’s head slowly. “Well, you can go shower. I’ll get them back in the cribs.”

“Okay,” Robin kissed his cheek, holding onto an arm that she remembered way thicker. “What’s your plan for today?”

“I should get a haircut, can bring the kids with me, the hairdresser has a kids zone, remember?” Strike suggested.

“Actually,” Robin considered, “we could do a family trip to the hairdresser. I need a haircut too, my hair has suffered four months of not brushing.” Strike raised his eyebrows looking at her.

“Okay, but I still think you look gorgeous. Thinner and beaten up, but otherwise gorgeous.” He said naturally, making her smile.

“I’ll call Ilsa, maybe we can take them out for lunch so they can see the sun.” Robin laughed as she walked to the stairs. She remembered what newborns were like when you had more children, locking oneself in the house, trying not to go mad.

 

 

 


	61. Not with strangers

Robin felt renewed as they left the hairdresser. She had gone for a short cut for the first time in ages, and Strike had his eyes glued to her, smiling lovingly and silly. Her red hair, now short to a bit below her jaw, fell forming wavy spirals, shinning and relived. Strike’s hair was now back to how Robin had known it years ago, and the products of the hairdresser made his curls look way less pubic hair and more wavy-messy hair, sexy. That was one novelty Robin introduced in Strike’s life; shampoos and hair-conditioners made for his type of hair. He had looked and said ‘ _come on, the only difference between this perfectly normal shampoo and this curly hair man’s shampoo is the extra three pounds the latter costs_ ’ but later, he had thanked her.

As they got out of the bus and walked to the Rainforest Cafe near Hyde Park, a place that imitated a jungle with its design and the background noise and that always left the children’s jaws on the ground, they fell into a comfortable silence, Strike holding a kid in each hand, insisting on not using the carriage old the time, since the children needed to practice their walking and plus, in the City, with the overcrowded streets, it was easier, and Robin walking next to them with her right arm hanging in its sling. Robin chuckled looking down and seeing the obvious discomfort the kids felt when Strike grabbed their hands and used his pinkies to, putting them in the inside part of the children’s wrists, work as a clothespin to hold their hands more firmly and securely. It made the toddlers uncomfortable, but it also made them safer, and Robin silently wondered where Strike had learnt that.

“This is so unfair,” Nick smiled as the Strikes found them inside the cafe and sat with them. Nick had bags under his eyes and little Robbie slept against his chest. “You come here looking like reborn models, and we’re here looking like death.”

“You’ve got a new monkey, don’t complain,” Robin chuckled sitting between him and Strike, the children sitting together between Strike and Ilsa, as they all circled the tables, to admire little Robbie, caressing his tiny head covered of dark hair like feathers. “God he’s so cute.”

“Have you met Haley yet?” Ilsa asked Robin.

“Not yet, but I’ve seen pictures and videos. We’re heading over for Christmas,” Robin answered chuckling at Robbie. “She’s pretty cute though, Haley Ellacott. Have you met her? She’s your very first niece.” Robin asked looking at Strike.

“No,” Strike shrugged. “Stephen came with Emily right before Haley was born, but the next time only Stephen came. I see Aria as a niece already though...” Strike added, looking at Aria, who looked healthy and pretty, playing with the twins.

“I still can’t believe we finally managed children. Two no less,” Ilsa smiled caressing Aria’s cheek as the little girl ate a piece of bread and chitchatted with the twins. “They’re already like we were, only two girls instead of two boys.” She added with a chuckle.

The waitress came to take their order and they asked for three pints and one water, juices for the kids, and then they got some children friendly food -not hard since the place was thought specially for children- and Strike made sure to get the biggest hamburger on the menu for himself.

“Sure about that Oggy?” Nick asked Strike when he ordered after asking ‘which hamburger is bigger?’ “Don’t want to puke it all later.”

“Is fine, I’m truly hungry. I can always wrap and take home the remains...” Strike shrugged licking his lips hungrily. Nick raised his eyebrows but looked satisfied.

“So how are you doing?” Ilsa asked looking at Robin with caring eyes, and Robin quickly understood the question conveyed many others _how’s being back in freedom? Are you sleeping good? Are you struggling to get back to normal?_

“I’m... surprisingly well, I guess,” Robin said thoughtful. “Twenty minutes of my life made me agoraphobic for a year the first time he crossed in my path but now... I’m just okay. Don’t know if it has something to do with having finished my degree and knowing what to tell myself though. But these past few months I just, I always knew I’d be back and I could see once he knew the mess he had gotten himself into by kidnapping me he was more afraid than I was. And I broke his dick, the one time he managed to get into...”

“What?” Nick asked surprised. “You _broke_ his dick?” Strike grimaced but otherwise looked proud of her.

“I hadn’t mentioned it?” Robin hadn’t realized. “Ah, yeah. Well, he took things too far, the first time he had me. He remembered me, figured he could have fun again. So I broke his nose, and then he kept going and I faked I had changed my mind, going on top. I got the idea from _Grey’s Anatomy_ , you just have to move the hips in a careless way. He almost fainted.”

“No kidding,” Strike wasn’t sure he could admire her more. Robin chuckled looking at him.

“Yeah, I told him who you were while he was in pain. Didn’t dare to touch me again, one look online and he knew he was going to pay any scratch,” Robin looked smug. “But going back to your question, I’m okay. He didn’t touch me again, I felt powerful. The only reason I didn’t try to escape was because I didn’t even know where we were, knew he could find me easily again and then he may not be so kind. Kept my mind in what waited here and since I could hear the TV from the basement I slept in, I was encouraged hearing about me all the time in the news. I think it would’ve been worse if I had been seriously hurt, or if I had felt alone or if I hadn’t felt powerful or was locked somewhere more terrifying, but it felt more like living with a really hated guy. The basements were decent, the food was fine, and he gave me most of the things I asked without complain, maybe thinking if police got him I’d speak well of him. And now I can be my own psychologist and keep myself afloat so...” she shrugged. “Probably worse for you all. I still remember the anguish of losing the kids from sight at my brother’s birthday party one year, remember?” she looked at Strike.

“I’d rather not...” Strike grumbled drinking from his water. He couldn’t drink alcohol while medicated. It had been Jonathan’s birthday, they had been chatting with him and when they turned around, the kids weren’t there. They almost got a heart attack for the half minute it took to find them.

“Yeah,” Robin nodded. “If I had to stand that feeling for three months...” she looked at Strike as if saying _yep that’s how I’d be_ and he simply moved to kiss her.

“I’ll be alright,” Strike murmured, reacting to recover a toy Daniel had dropped. “All good.”

“Yeah, sure,” Robin shook her head. “How many pounds less?”

“Hey, you lost weight too,” Strike defended himself.

“And I was kidnapped,” Robin pointed out. “You were supposedly being feed properly.”

“He wasn’t hungry. Lucy can tell you tons about that, she almost killed him.” Ilsa chuckled.

“Well now I’m going to eat my hamburger and I’ve got a psychology session at four,” Strike looked hungrily at the hamburger as the waitress came back with their order, putting their plates in front of themselves. He gave a big bite to his enormous hamburger, shoving some fried potatoes at the same time inside his mouth, and moaned in delight. Robin laughed leaning to kiss his cheek and he munched satisfied, his face swollen with the food he was trying to munch and gulp.

“That good uh?” Robin grinned, eating her fish happily. Strike moaned again, nodded. “How about you, kids, it’s that good?” Robin asked the twins, who were eating lasagne and had tomato all over his cheeks. They both nodded humming in approval. “Can’t get actual words out of Strikes when they eat.” She added smiling at Ilsa, who laughed, moving Robbie to breastfeed him while eating her own food.

They were hanging in Hyde Park after lunch, Robbie asleep in his carriage and the kids playing on the grass while the adults sat and chatted. Strike had gotten rid of his prosthesis to let his leg rest for a bit and was listening to Nick, Ilsa and Robin talking about the postponed trip to Regensburg, Germany, that would have to wait another year, when his phone rang and, having removed the prosthesis, he resigned to attending the call there.

“Cormoran Strike,” he grumbled into the phone. “Ah, Ms Campbell, hi...” he hadn’t seen Ms Campbell since Charlotte’s funeral, and hadn’t talked with her in years. His friends, hearing the surname, stopped chatting and looked in curiosity. “Yeah, my wife’s alright now. She was very sorry to hear about Charlotte, and so am I, by the way... it was a terrible thing to happen. Oh... oh, seriously?” Strike frowned scratching his cheek. “Okay, I’ll tell my lawyer then. Good, thanks for letting me know... yeah, I’ll call you later okay? Thanks, bye.” He hung up and looked at his friends, still frowning. “Charlotte left me stuff in her will.”

“Woah,” Nick whistled. “How much?”

“I don’t know. Ms Campbell said she just finished the paperwork and got access to the will. Charlotte modified her will in February, which isn’t weird because she liked having it up to date, it was comforting for her to know she had her stuff sorted out,” Strike explained. “According to Ms Campbell, the only people she lent things to were Brian, her boyfriend, and me. She didn’t get along with her family. Ms Campbell seemed understanding about it. Anyway, I need a lawyer to sort things out.”

“I’ve got a friend who specializes in those things,” Ilsa offered. “I’ll text you the number.” Strike nodded.

“Thanks,” Strike consulted his watch, that rolled in his wrist from how thin he was. “I should get going, or I won’t be there on time.” He rolled the sleeve of his pants, starting to adjust the prosthesis back in.

“Where’s this consult?” Robin asked.

“Not far from home, by Victoria’s Park. Will you be okay on your own with the burritos?” Strike asked Robin, standing up with a grunt and pointing at the toddlers, who laughed playing by themselves.

“Yeah,” Robin nodded, standing up to kiss him. “Don’t worry. Good luck love.”

Strike hated going to the psychologist, Robin, she was all nice and perfect, but going to a complete stranger was odd and awkward. This was now around the twelfth time he had gone, and he still wasn’t able to tell much. There was no way the sympathetic man who sat opposite her understood. Their jobs were simply worlds apart. He felt no desire to tell him anything and finally, the psychologist sighed.

“Mr Strike, why are you hiring me if you don’t wish to talk?” Strike nodded and stood up. He just wanted to go. Now.

“You’re right, sorry... good job, I’m going to head home now and I won’t come back, by the way...” Strike stood awkwardly and, to his psychologist’s impressed expression, he left the consult and walked home.

When he closed the door behind him, he noticed the house was unusually quiet.

“Robin?” Strike called. He had been gone for an hour, but maybe they weren’t back yet. He walked upstairs to his bedroom and stopped dead in his track when he opened the bedroom door. There, Robin slept peacefully on their bed, a twin snuggled in each side, taking a good nap. Strike chuckled, and slidin bed with them. Maybe he didn’t need psychologists after all, just a good, old wife.

 

 


End file.
